These Last Few Hours
by ScopesMonkey
Summary: Doctor Bashir finds himself stranded in the Gamma Quadrant with a Starfleet officer he's never met before.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: _This is set shortly after "Doctor Bashir, I presume?" in season 5. I'm not sure about this story… but the only way to find out is to write it, I guess!

_Disclaimer_: I don't own any things Trek; they belong to Paramount. I do own this story, all original characters, settings, and events.

1

Light filtered slowly into his vision, basking the right side of his face, making him wince. It was warm light, and seemed to flicker at odd intervals. And bright. Very bright.

Natural light.

Julian Bashir groaned and tried to shift, to get his face out of the light, but something held him back.

"No," said an unfamiliar voice. "Please don't move, sir. I don't know the extent of your injuries yet."

Injuries? He was hurt?

He blinked his eyes open slowly, climbing back from the depths of unconsciousness to see a woman hovering over him, tricorder in hand, scanning him carefully.

"Don't move, please," she repeated. She was younger than he was, and obviously of East Indian descent, although her accent was unmistakably English. Bashir's mind slowly began working again as the pounding started up behind his temples, making him wince. The woman looked slightly alarmed, her almond-brown eyes glimmering with doubt.

"I think you have a concussion," she said, looking back at the tricorder. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Bashir," he managed, his throat feeling like he'd eaten a bucket of sand. "Julian Bashir."

"Are you a doctor, sir, or a scientist?"

He caught the sir this time, and realized she was wearing a red Starfleet uniform. There were two pips on the collar: one filled in, the other not. A junior lieutenant.

"Doctor," he said. "I need water."

She nodded once, quickly, and stood up, disappearing momentarily. When she returned, she had an emergency flask, which she tipped to his lips. Bashir drank gratefully, the cold water soothing his parched mouth and throat.

"Do you have the medkit?", he asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Take the hypospray and the second vial on the left. Inject half of it only."

She did as instructed and Bashir felt the cool touch of the metal, then the soft hiss of the analgesic entering his bloodstream. It took a minute for the effects to take hold, but the headache began to subside and his thought process, already stronger than a normal human's would have been, kicked back into high gear.

"You don't have any broken bones or internal injuries," the woman assured him. Bashir got his first good look at her, without a veil of pain. She was very pretty, he realized, with long, black hair and a delicate face, but her jaw was set, as if she was expecting some sort of confrontation. It gave her a distant look, as if she were closed off and cold.

He looked away, out the viewport, which was the source of the natural light. Instead of blackness of space with its myriad of pinpoint stars, or the artificial lights of the station complemented by bleak Cardassian metal, he found himself blinking up at a pale violet sky. Bright sunlight poured into the cabin of the _Orinoco_, tempered a bit on the very left side of the viewport by green, rustling leaves. He looked back at the cabin. The shuttle was tilted at a very slight angle, and the interior looked a lot worse for the wear. There were things scattered across the floor; toolkits and tricorders, he realized, from one of the supply cabinets.

"Where am I and how did I get here?", he asked.

"You crashed about two hours ago," the woman replied. Bashir realized he didn't even know her name yet. "I felt the shock waves. As for where we are, I'm not sure what system we're in, but we're obviously on a planet. I don't know which planet."

"Where did you come from?", he asked.

She nodded toward the viewport, as if that would give him some sort of bearing.

"I crashed about four kilometers away from here," she told him. "That was five days ago, I think. I was unconscious, too, but not for very long , as far as I can tell."

"I was on my way back to the station after a medical conference on Betazed," he said. "I wasn't anywhere near any planet except for Bajor. And we aren't on Bajor."

"Do you mean Deep Space Nine?", she asked.

"Yes, Deep Space Nine. Are you assigned there? I've never seen you before."

"No, sir, I'm not. But if you were going to DS9, then I don't know how you got here, certainly. As far as I can tell, we're in the Gamma Quadrant."

"What?", Bashir exclaimed. "How did I get through the wormhole? I don't remember even getting near it! How did you get over here?"

"My ship is on assignment in the Gamma Quadrant," she replied.

Bashir opened his mouth to ask about that, but something in her face, some fleeting expression, made him rethink that. He wondered for a wild moment if he was stuck with a Changeling, then wondered why she would have bothered saving him. But perhaps this whole thing had been orchestrated by the Dominion, to capture him. Perhaps she hadn't been saving him at all, but simply awakening him from his abduction… It seemed everyone in Starfleet knew about his genetic enhancements now; if the Dominion had learned of them, they might want to make use of them.

"What's your name?", he asked.

"Lieutenant Syreeta Narayan," she replied.

"What's your serial number?"

"N-seven-one-one-F."

Still, that could easily be a fake. Narayan was giving him an odd look; Bashir realized his suspicions were showing on his face and he quickly schooled his expression back to neutral, but she was already shaking her head.

"I'm not a Changeling. Here." She gave him the medkit and offered her arm. Bashir took a small sample of her blood and felt the relief coursing through him. She was telling the truth.

That didn't seem to change the fact that he was halfway across the galaxy, on an unknown planet with a woman he'd never met before. And he realized the odds of two Starfleet shuttles going down on an uncharted planet within kilometers and days of each other. They were infinitely small.

"You said you came down in a shuttle," he said, half asking.

Narayan nodded.

"Have you sent out a distress signal yet?", he asked.

"No, sir, I can't. Most of my systems were damaged in the crash. I have secondary environmental systems only. Just enough for me to be able to sleep in my ship."

"Well, I took some engineering extension courses at the Academy," Bashir said. "If we can't get the communications array on this ship to work, I'll have a look at yours."

She shook her head again.

"Sir, my communications array is damaged beyond repair. I mean, there's almost nothing left of it. It caught fire after I landed, and there's nothing left to salvage."

Bashir groaned.

"Well," he said. "Let's see what's still working here."

* * *

It turned out to be not much. The Orinoco had taken quite a beating on his landing. To Bashir's dismay, his own communications array was beyond his ability to repair, engineering courses and genetic enhancements or not. He was certain it could be done, but he would have needed O'Brien here to do it. The shuttle had some working environmental systems as well, although they needed repair, and it looked as if the transporters could be repaired, but they might not get peak performance. Provided they had anywhere to go. The long range sensors were down, but it looked simple enough to get them back on line, which might help them figure out if they could get anywhere significant. Narayan said she had seen no signs of settlement or intelligent life, but given that none of her shuttle's systems were functioning, that might mean little. They had no way of telling if there were any warp capable civilizations on this planet, because they had no means of detecting any kind of communication. Even more primitive forms of communication, such as radio signals, were beyond their ability to track. And Narayan pointed out that even if they'd had sensors, any civilizations on this planet may be using methods such as fiber optics, which they would not be able to pick up.

Bashir put her to work restoring the long range sensors and got to work on the transporters. His mind was still reeling, going a mile a minute, trying to evaluate what had happened and how he'd arrived here, but his memory of the crash and the time before that was blank. He could remember contacting the station, giving them his ETA, but nothing beyond that. Had he hit some sort of anomaly that had launched him into the wormhole? He knew he hadn't set the wrong course; and it would take a great deal of overshooting to get from where he had been, past the station to the wormhole.

He sighed, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Although the pain of his concussion was gone, he still felt its effects; he was tired, and knew he would need to sleep sometime soon. Real sleep, not simply unconsciousness. The job helped keep him focused, but he began to feel his body wearing down. Bashir had no idea how much time had passed when Narayan was there suddenly, pushing a field ration package into his hand and telling him he had to eat. Bashir shuffled from the console in which he'd been working and ripped open the package, staring at the substance inside of it.

"Sir, you need to eat," Narayan repeated.

With a sigh, Bashir stood, tearing into the bland, cardboard-textured substance Starfleet optimistically called food, and followed Narayan back to the flight deck. She had made more progress than he, it seemed, and had managed to get the long range sensors on line and was working at stabilizing the environmental system.

"You're not an engineer in disguise?", he asked, "Are you?"

She shook her head. "A pilot, sir, but I've picked up enough engineer to patch a ship back into shape, if it's not too badly damaged. Every pilot needs to know how."

Bashir nodded, taking a flask of water and draining most of it to wash the taste of the ration out of his mouth. He felt drained and sat down, shoulder slumping somewhat.

"Sir, you need to rest," Narayan said. "I can look at the transporters. You have a concussion. You can't work yourself ragged."

He raised one eyebrow, smiling slightly.

"Now you sound like a doctor."

"It's just common sense," she replied.

"A sense people too often fail to use," he said. "All right. If you need anything, come and wake me up."

"I will," she replied, then gave him another ration. "For when you wake up."

"I await it eagerly," Bashir said dryly. She only nodded at him before turning back to her work. Bashir sighed and headed down the corridor to the tiny crew cabin. He tossed the hated ration onto the small table and crawled into the bottom bunk, drawing the blanket over his head. He thought of how he was supposed to have met O'Brien tonight for a came of darts. But that probably wasn't even tonight anymore. How long had he been here? Where was here? Confusion whirled through his tired mind and Bashir shoved it aside, sinking into a deep and much needed sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note_: This will be it until next week; I'm away at a conference.

2

Bashir awoke sometime later, staring at the bunk above him. Anyone else would have experienced a moment's confusion, accompanied with a blissful ignorance. But not him. He did not have the luxury of not knowing where he was or what had happened, even for a split second. His memory filled in the details neatly. He loathed that. What he wouldn't give for a second of belief that he was on his way home, that he'd be sleeping in his own bed tonight, and back among his friends in a matter of hours.

But he'd woken up with the knowledge that he was stranded on an unknown planet with a junior lieutenant he'd never met before. His enhanced hearing had picked up the sounds of her moving around in the cockpit. He could even feel the slight angle of the ship beneath him.

If it had just been him, perhaps he would have resigned himself to this. Perhaps it would have been for the best, to be removed from society, on his own, not a constant reminder to everyone that a criminal lived in their midst.

But Narayan's life was at stake here, too. She was stranded as much as he was, cut off from her ship and crew, friends and family, her entire life. She couldn't be very happy, Bashir supposed, to be stuck with a Starfleet doctor she'd never met, suddenly dependent on him as much as he was dependent on her.

With a sigh, he rose and saw the ration still on the table. Bashir muttered a curse under his breath and tore it open, staring at it for a moment before choking it down. He wondered how people stayed alive on those things; the idea of starvation was going to become appealing very rapidly if they didn't find anything else to eat.

He went back to the flight deck to find Narayan hard at work. She looked up when she heard him come in and nodded at him.

"How do you feel, sir?", she asked.

"Better," Bashir said honestly. "What have you got?"

"The environmental system is stable enough for now," she replied. "And I did got the transporters working again, although we won't have nearly the range we should have." Bashir raised an eyebrow, impressed at her efficiency. He hadn't been asleep that long, he knew; it was still daylight outside. "I also did a scan of the area, as far as the long range sensors would go. It turns out this planet is inhabited after all. There's a settlement about three hundred kilometers from here."

"Three hundred?", Bashir said, feeling dismayed. "That's a long way to walk."

"The transporters will get us part way, although I haven't been able to calculate how far," she replied.

"I can take care of that," Bashir assured her. It would take him only seconds.

She nodded.

"I have quite a bit of emergency gear in my shuttle, sir, and I did a quick inventory of what you have here. We should have enough to keep us warm and safe. And we won't have to rely on these all of the time," she added, picking up a silver ration package and waving it back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. "I figured out on my first day here what planets and animals are edible."

Bashir breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Thank God," he muttered.

She looked mildly amused, raising an eyebrow.

"I think I should be able to transport back and gather what we'll need from my ship," she said.

Something finally clicked in Bashir's mind, something about her ship that had been bothering him. He had been traveling alone, on his way back to the station, but…

"Were you alone when you crashed?", he asked.

She was silent for a moment, then shook her head.

"No, sir. I've buried my dead."

"How many?", Bashir asked.

"Two, sir. They were sleeping in the back when I lost computer control. They weren't able to get safely strapped in before we crashed."

"I need to run a medical scan on you right now," Bashir said, cursing himself for not having though of this earlier, concussion or no concussion. "If they both died, it was a serious crash, and I want to make sure you're all right."

She nodded and let him scan her. Bashir was impressed by her own patch up job on herself; she had been injured, that was obvious, but had done a decent job repairing the damage. Still, she had been alone, and probably in shock, and there were a few things she would not have been able to do, not being a doctor.

"Take off your jacket," he ordered.

She did so, and he pulled aside the fabric covering one shoulder. She'd sustained a nasty gash, but the angle had made it difficult for her to seal the wound properly. There was an uneven scar, and the area was red and chaffed, probably from rubbing against the material of her uniform.

"You'll need to take your necklace off," he said. She unhooked the thin silver chain from her neck and Bashir ran a dermal regenerator over the area, scanning it again to make sure the internal damage was healing as well. Then he dealt with the bruised ribs, alternately healing and prodding.

"Take a deep breath," he ordered when he was finished. "Feel better?"

"Much," she replied. "Thank you."

Bashir nodded curtly.

"You sustained a concussion as well. I'm going to manipulate your neck a bit. Don't move, just let me move you."

He twisted her head gently from side to side, then back and forth, using his fingers to check the muscles around her spine and on the base of her skull. She grimaced a few times, but said nothing unless he asked her specifically where it hurt.

"Not bad," he replied. "You have some muscle stiffness from the concussion. I'm going to give you a muscle relaxant, and show you some stretches you'll do twice a day. You'll need to do them if we're going to be walking long distances carrying packs."

She nodded and Bashir showed her what to do. He was grateful that she was listening, and not trying to be strong and stoic. He didn't need a companion who was stubborn and unwilling to listen to him.

"Now," Bashir said. "Since you've been working on this while I was asleep, how soon do you think we can be ready to go?"

"I can get my gear easily enough," she said, "With the transporters working, and since there's only two of us, I'm sure we can get organized quickly, sir. But I think it would be best to stay here overnight. There's no sense sleeping outside if we don't have to."

Something about the way she spoke the last sentence caught Bashir's ears.

"What do you mean?", he asked.

She gave him a puzzled look, as if she were confused that he didn't know, or surprised that she would assume he was as up to date on their situation as she was.

"Sir, we're in a mountain range," she replied.

Bashir stared at her for a moment, then nearly ran to the shuttle's hatchway, clambering out. He found himself standing in a high glacial valley, mountain peaks jutting up toward the sky on either side of him. The tops of the mountains were capped in snow, gleaming a brilliant gold-white in the sunlight, standing out against the blue and grey rock that made up the slopes. They were obviously young mountains, sharp and unworn, with steep and craggy cliff faces. Dense stands of dark green trees made their way boldy up the sides of the mountains, tapering out long before they reached the snowy peaks, although Bashir could see the occasional pioneering tree further up, on its own.

He stared up the length of the glacier-carved valley. To his right, about twelve meters away, a river roared past, its water an opaque blue-green, laden with glacial dust. It foamed an icy white as it swirled and tore around the rocks buried beneath the current. The valley floor itself was an alpine meadow, with short grasses, wildflowers, and mosses carpeting the floodplain. His shuttle had cut a swath through the meadow, but an eerie short of peace had returned after his ship had come to rest, and the plants danced gently in the breeze that came off the slopes around him. The only sound was the thunder of the river rushing past on its way out from the mountains.

Narayan stepped out and he turned to her, mouth still open in shock. He had never been in such a young, wild-looking range, at least, not when he could appreciate it. He had been to the Himalayas once, when he had been at the Academy, and Bashir felt it was the only thing in his experience that came close. The governments in whose territories the Himalayas fell had done their best to keep Earth's youngest mountains pristine and wild. Bashir had, of course, been to the American Rockies when had been living in San Francisco, but they had the sense of being well known and lived in; it was rare to find a tourist in North America who had not been to some part of the Rocky Mountains.

He wondered if anyone had ever set foot in the valley in which he and Narayan now found themselves.

"Where is that settlement?", he managed to ask.

She pointed to her right, which meant little to him.

"Northeast," she said. "In the foothills. Do you see those mountains over there? No snow caps."

He followed her gesture and noticed what he had not noticed before. In the distance, there were indeed mountains without snow on their peaks. It was a good sign in more ways than one; it meant it wasn't late spring or early summer, but mid to late summer. The weather would be more cooperative, although it was always a risky business in the mountains. But it also meant there would be game and plenty of edible plants.

_Well_, he decided,_ Being in the mountains doesn't change the situation._ He turned away from the wild beauty around him, back toward the shuttle.

"I suppose we have a lot of work to do," he said.

Narayan nodded and slipped back into the shuttle, Bashir following her.

* * *

By that evening, they were ready to go. Narayan had transported back to her shuttle and returned with a wealth of survival supplies, which had surprised Bashir. She had pointed out quite logically that she and her crewmates had been on an away mission, and he had been attending a conference, so of course her shuttle was better stocked than his. He was still surprised.

He had let her go alone, of course, not wanting to intrude, but he worried about her. Right now, she was focused on her own predicament, but the time would have to come for her to grieve for her dead crewmates. Perhaps, he realized, if now was not the time for her to do that, then nor was it the time for him to worry about it.

While she had been gone, he had determined that the transporters would take them approximately one hundred and seventy kilometers, which put them at the very inward edge of the foothills. From there, it would be about one hundred and twenty kilometers of walking, not a prospect which Bashir relished. Narayan had taken the sensible approach again, saying it was better than walking all the way through the mountains.

He had also mapped out their course. The river would take them most of the way, which would make the journey less difficult. They would be on a relatively level surface the whole way, even if they had to follow a short distance off the banks. As much as they could, they would walk along the banks themselves. Passingly, Bashir had wished for a boat, until he thought about the white water in the river just outside. He did not want to contend with that, nor any unannounced waterfalls.

They both worked on an inventory of their supplies and Bashir was heartened by it. Narayan had brought back with her one pack, and Bashir had one on the _Orinoco_. She had also brought a tarp, wrapped up quite small, thermal clothing, a set of which looked a bit too big for him and one that fit her, the field rations she hadn't eaten, three phasers, two books of matches, two flashlights, water purification tablets, two thick blankets and two pairs of bulky gloves. Bashir found himself wondering who her captain was; he or she was obviously serious about sending away teams out fully prepared. He just wished they'd provided her with a backup com system.

He himself had his own clothing, his medkit, his own pack, another blanket and he insisted on bringing a small pillow. They pooled together all of their rations and decided on bringing four water flasks, just in case. Bashir looked at the pile of rations that was split between the two of them, and found himself anticipating a real meal, even if he had to catch it and kill it with his bare hands.

They spent the night in the shuttle, their last night of luxury. In the morning, Bashir awoke before Narayan did, and left her sleeping in the top bunk. He dressed and shaved, reminding himself to appreciate this now, because it would be the last time for a long time he got to do it. Then he went outside, bundled up in the thermal clothing, into the cold mountain morning air.

He looked around, his breath misting in front of him. The surrounding peaks, so brilliant and vivid only yesterday, were shrouded now by wispy clouds. It didn't look as though they were massing for a blizzard, however, and Bashir was grateful. He could see the sun beginning to peak out from behind them, just coming over the mountainous horizon. Nearby, the river still flowed, the only sound in the chilly valley.

He heard Narayan emerge from the shuttle and nodded a good morning at her. She nodded back, then snapped her head to her left, looking upstream. Bashir's eyes followed hers, picking up on some small sound, and he saw what had caught her attention. About thirty meters away, two sleek black animals were fording the icy river. They had either not noticed the humans, or simply didn't care that they were there. To Bashir, they looked like cougars, only smaller and shorter. They both had stubby tails that stuck straight out behind them, and large, pointed ears that sat upright on the tops of their heads.

As Bashir and Narayan watched, the lead cat-creature turned its head in their direction, gazing imperiously at them. It had a bright blue nose that stood out sharply against its black fur. The other cat-creature seemed unimpressed with its companion's pause and continued through the water, picking up its paws delicately with each step. The first animal turned away and rejoined its companion. Bashir and Narayan stared after them until they vanished into the thick forest.

"Beautiful," the woman said, shaking her head, and rubbing her hands together.

"How in the world did you hear that?", Bashir asked. His own hearing was, of course, superb. But she shouldn't have been able to pick that up.

She looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"I have better hearing than most people," she admitted.

"Oh?", Bashir asked, raising an eyebrow.

Narayan sighed.

"I was born deaf," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I had gene therapy to restore my hearing, but the doctor accidentally made it better than it should be. At least, he said it was an accident. I don't know, I was just a baby. But Starfleet knows! I told them when I had my entrance physical. And it was done by a Federation doctor. A Starfleet doctor, actually."

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Bashir said, then sighed. Might as well get it over with. "It's actually nice to meet someone else with heightened senses."

"Someone _else_?", Narayan asked.

He pursed his lips. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut.

"I'm genetically enhanced. I was only six when it was done to me, so, like you, I didn't have a choice. And Starfleet knows about it, too."

"You're an Augment?"

Bashir winced; he hated that word.

"I suppose so, yes."

Narayan looked at him silently for a moment, her lips pursed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

"What did they enhance?", she asked.

"Everything."

"Hearing, eyesight, coordination, memory?"

"Among other things."

"Good."

Bashir started, staring at her.

"Good?"

"Doctor, whatever my personal views about this may be, Starfleet obviously thought you were an acceptable candidate if they let you into the Academy knowing this. And if you can help get us out of here, then I don't care how enhanced you are. If it increases our chances of getting help, I'm all for it. Here and now. Do you understand?"

Bashir nodded. It wasn't true acceptance, but he knew that only a few people really accepted him as he was now anyway. He didn't bother to correct her assumption that Starfleet had allowed him into the Academy knowing about his enhancements. To her, it was probably logical; she had been allowed in with her heightened hearing, after all.

"Let's go," she said, nodding toward the shuttle. "The sooner we beam out of here, the more time we'll have to cover ground during daylight."

It was almost like working with a Vulcan, he mused, following her back into the disabled _Orinoco_. She was so no-nonsense about everything, so focused on the task before her. On one hand, Bashir was relieved to know that he had someone reliable with him, someone who would pull her own weight without prompting or complaining. On the other hand, it worried him slightly. She was almost too efficient, too organized. But perhaps it was her way of dealing with what had just happened to her. He, after all, hadn't lost any crewmates to this planet. And he hadn't been alone for five days. And maybe she just wanted to get home. After all, despite her enhanced hearing, she was a normal human, and he was willing to bet that people didn't walk around eggshells around her. A normal human, a normal life. It was a dream that was just as unobtainable for him here on this unknown planet as it was back home on the station.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _I would like to thank all my reviewers, especially the regular ones. You guys rock. SpaceRoses: I'd really like to say thanks for your review of A Dagger I See Before Me, too. I tried to email you about it, but I don't think it worked. Also, if anyone is interested in being a beta reader, I don't have one, and I think I'd like one for this story.

3

The transporter deposited them several meters from the river's edge, on a sandy bank. Narayan had her tricorder out almost immediately and was scanning the area as Bashir looked around, gauging their situation.

"One hundred and sixty-eight kilometers, roughly," she reported.

"Good," the doctor said.

"We'll stick to the banks where we can; where we can't, we'll follow any game or pack trails. There's bound to be some running along the river. You should walk in front. With your eyesight, you'll be better at picking up the trail and keeping us on it. And picking up anything else I might not see. We'll walk until an hour before dark, then break and make camp so we have enough time to find food," Narayan said, then looked suddenly shocked. "I'm sorry, sir, you're the senior officer. I shouldn't be giving orders. Our path is, of course, up to you."

Bashir glanced around, gesturing widely with his arms in an attempt to capture the vast landscape.

"I think we don't need to hold much with rank here," he said. "You seem to know what you're doing, so I'm happy to follow your lead."

She nodded, looking satisfied, and Bashir found himself wondering about her. A pilot? She seemed more like a survivalist. He would have been able to keep himself alive, of course, and probably made it to the settlement as well, but Narayan seemed completely in her element here. How many pilots, he wondered, were so used to being in the middle of nowhere? He realized he knew almost nothing about her, not even her age. It was disconcerting to be so dependent on such an utter stranger.

"Shall we?", Narayan asked, breaking through his thoughts.

Bashir nodded, adjusted his pack slightly, and set off in front of her, heading downstream. They walked all day, stopping only for a lunch of cold river water and Starfleet rations. Bashir stayed in front the whole time, setting their path. He had a feeling Narayan wasn't keeping him in front just because his eyesight was better. He felt as if she wanted to keep an eye on him. _Well_, he thought with an inward sigh, _Maybe I can't blame her. There was a time when a woman wasn't necessarily safe with a strange man._ So he headed up their tiny expedition without complaint. The walking was difficult in some areas, where the banks of the river were steep and they were forced to retreat to the uneven forest terrain. At other times, it was laughably simple, level and right alongside the rushing water.

Narayan called a halt about an hour before the sun set, just as she promised. Gratefully, Bashir let his pack slump to the forest floor; they had decided to camp in the trees so as to be less exposed to the elements and any predators.

"All right, let's set up first," Narayan said, and Bashir noted to himself how easily she took charge. Perhaps it was the pilot's training, with the need to be in control of a ship, or perhaps it was just how she worked.

She felled five small trees with her phaser, and then set him to work helping her strap the trunk of one of the downed trees to the trunks of two larger, standing trees. Completing that, they strapped the remaining four trunks to the vertical pole, at each end on either side. Then Narayan threw the tarp over the structure, tying it down with easy, familiar movements as Bashir gathered rocks to hold the base of the tarp to the ground. It was larger than they needed, so the edges were tucked under, protecting the inside of the make-shift tent from the ground.

"Starfleet survival training has nothing on you," Bashir joked, giving her a grin.

"Starfleet survival training has nothing on growing up in a colony," she replied, securing the last of the tarp lines.

"Ah," Bashir said, nodding. "That would do it. What colony?"

"Lionus Four," she replied, ducking her head into the tent, then coming back out, appearing satisfied. "I was born en route, actually, so I was the youngest person to land there." She looked up, flashing him a smile, and Bashir realized with some shock it was the first time he had seen her smile.

"I would have guessed you were from England," he said. "With the accent."

She shook her head.

"My parents were, which is why I have the accent. Are you?"

He nodded.

"Let's get some firewood and get a fire going."

They did so quickly, then Narayan gave Bashir a PADD with her list of edible berries, plants and roots and sent him out to gather some. She herself went off hunting, clutching a phaser in one hand. It took Bashir longer to find what he was looking for, and when he returned, Narayan was just starting to roast some small animal over the open flames. It already seemed delicious, and Bashir's mouth watered.

"I'll go to the river and get some more water," he said, putting down the plants he'd found beside her. She nodded distractedly, focused more on her task than on him. He fetched the water and came back, handing a flask to her, which she accepted with thanks. Narayan took a swig of the cold water and sighed, staring at the flask.

"What I wouldn't give for a glass of milk," she said.

Bashir laughed.

"Milk?"

"Yes, milk. I happen to like milk. Why? What would you have?"

"Oh, tea or raktajino, I think."

Narayan made a face.

"I don't like raktajino. It's too bitter. Tea would be nice, though. Anyway, here you go." She handed him a bit of meat and Bashir took it, eating grateful, then scarfing down some of the berries, tasteless leaves and roots. The roots were sweet, tasting almost candied, and he had to temper that with some of the meat. He examined the PADD as he did so; Narayan was so organized she'd included the nutritional value of each of the plants.

"All right," she said when they were done. "I'll take first watch. You need to get some rest. I'll wake you up in six hours."

Bashir nodded, deciding not to argue. He looked up at the dark sky through the canopy, and saw the pinpoint lights of the stars, although none of them were familiar to him. Six hours would get them through the middle of the night. The planet had a rotational cycle of twenty-seven hours and thirteen minutes compared to an Earth day. Bashir would adjust to it easily, he knew, given the station's twenty-six hour day, but he wondered how Narayan would fare, coming from a twenty-four hour day ship.

He crawled into the tent shuffling under the two blankets. Narayan had chosen this spot in part because the forest floor was softer here, covered with thick mosses, and she had added to that by putting the branches from a pine-like tree under the tarp. Bashir pounded the tiny pillow once, then drew the hood of his thermal jacket over his head, tying it as tightly as he could so that only a small part of his face was exposed. He wrapped his hands in his gloves and curled up, closing his eyes. He could hear the crackle of the fire from outside and Narayan's soft footsteps as she moved about the camp on some chore. With a sigh to himself, Bashir turned his attention away from the sounds and surrendered himself to sleep.

* * *

"Julian? Julian! Can you hear me? Julian!"

"Doctor!" the second voice cut through his mind and Bashir sat up quickly, before he was fully awake.

"What? What is it?", he demanded, then his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw Narayan in the tent's entrance, watching him with concern. He had pulled back his hood sometime in his sleep, probably because the tent was warm, the tarp keeping in his body heat.

"What's the matter? You were yelling," Narayan said.

"I was?", Bashir asked.

She nodded, slipping into the tent and crouching at the door.

"What was I yelling?", he asked.

"You said: 'Miles, dammit, I can hear you! Miles!'"

"Oh," Bashir said, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I must have been dreaming." He sighed, shaking his head. "Probably dreaming someone was searching for me. You didn't hear anyone else, did you?"

Narayan shook her head.

"Believe me, Doctor, if I'd heard someone's voice on your combadge, I'd have done something about it. Who's Miles?"

"A friend of mine, from the station." Bashir felt the familiar guilty feeling. His best friend, to whom he had kept the truth for so many years. Yet O'Brien had been so understanding, not judgmental, when the truth had come out. "What time is it?"

Narayan shrugged.

"Sometime past midnight, I think," she replied. "It's hard to tell."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Over six hours."

"All right," Bashir said, crawling out from under the blankets. "Your turn to sleep."

Narayan traded places with him and Bashir bid her good-night before slipping from the tent. In a few days, he knew, those blankets were going to stink to high heaven, and they didn't really have the luxury of stopping to wash them in the river then hang them to dry. But they would keep them warm and dry at night, and that was really mattered.

He headed toward the fire, putting the phaser down beside him and added a piece of wood to the low fire. Then he sat down on the block of wood Narayan had cut for a stool and peered into the night, listening. It wasn't quiet; there were the sounds of nocturnal creatures going about the business of living, but it was mostly insects and birds, with the scuttle of a few small animals here and there. No predators that Bashir's sensitive eyes and ears could make out. He could hear Narayan shifting around inside the tent, too, then there was silence, so she must have fallen asleep.

He watched the flames, keeping his ears open to the forest around him. It was so disorienting being here. Two days ago, he was looking forward to being home, now he was stranded and had no idea if he'd ever see home again. All the people he would miss… All the people he had lied to. Would they be worried about him? Did he deserve that concern? It bothered him that he might be making his friends, especially O'Brien and Dax, fret over him, when he had done so little to merit their care. He remembered how angry Sisko had been when the truth had come out; the captain had not yelled at Bashir, but had been quietly angry. It was worse than yelling, Bashir had thought at the time. It was still worse. Sudden anger past quickly; Bashir didn't know how long Sisko would hold this against him. Or even if he still did. Perhaps no one would bother searching, on Sisko's orders. This would be an easy way to get rid of a nuisance, after all…

He sighed, looking back at the tent. How strange to be here, of all places, against all odds, with someone else like him. Bashir wondered how Narayan had fared with her genetic enhancement, how people reacted to it. But, he reminded herself, she was honest about it. He had not been. And having gene therapy to correct a defect was not the same as being genetically enhanced, at least, not to the extent that Bashir was. She had come straight out and told him when he had asked; she had told the Starfleet doctor when she had her entrance physical. He had only told one person before the truth had come out on the station.

So perhaps Narayan was not at all like him. She had not lived a lie, or broken Federation law simply by existing. He was willing to bet no one had gone to jail for restoring her hearing and making it better than it should have been. An accident. Well, Bashir doubted that, being a doctor himself. But one sense, out of five main ones, one little thing out of an entire person.

No, not like him then. Not even close. Her life was validated; she was not living in shadows and secrecy. He was as he had always been, a freak, a mutant. Narayan, on the other hand, was a normal human being. He rubbed his eyes, feeling sickened by himself. To think he had presumed some sort of affinity between them… He was different, he always would be, and her enhancement was just a sharp reminder that he was an outsider, more than human and so, therefore, somehow less.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Narayan emerged from the tent shortly after the sun had risen, rubbing her neck and looking uncomfortable. Bashir beckoned her over to the fire, which was still burning low, and got her to sit in front of him. She put her thermal jacket on the ground and sat cross-legged on it.

"I'm just going to have a look at your neck again," he told her. "Can you take off your uniform jacket?"

She complied without comment, setting the jacket over her legs. Bashir prodded her neck, frowning to himself. No wonder she had looked stiff; her muscles had tightened up during the night.

"I can do some massage to help loosen you up," he said.

"All right," she agreed.

"You'll have to take off your necklace again."

She unhooked the chain, holding it delicately in her fingers. Bashir set to work, taking care not to push too hard. He was used to O'Brien's shoulder injury and knew what the chief could take, but not what Narayan could handle.

"What is that necklace?", he asked.

She held it up for him to see. On the thin silver chain were three small silver circles. The two smallest ones were on either side of the large one, held to the center circle with delicate silver links. There were inscriptions of some sort on all three circles.

"That's beautiful," Bashir said. "What is it?"

"Lionus in the middle," Narayan replied. "And the two moons, Panteris and Tigris."

Bashir smiled.

"Whoever named that system must have liked cats."

"A bit too much," Narayan agreed. She paused. "My father made this for me. He gave it to me on my tenth birthday."

"It's beautiful work. Do your parents still live on Lionus?"

"No," Narayan said flatly. "They're dead."

Bashir winced, grateful that she could not see him, and felt instantly guilty.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"You didn't know," she replied. "Tell me about where you come from," she added, changing the subject quickly, and Bashir was glad for it. He kept up his assault on her neck muscles, feeling for any tensing or shifting that would indicate he was hurting her.

"Well, the station's–"

"No, no, not the station. England."

He chuckled.

"I haven't lived there in so long… It isn't like home to me anymore. The station's my home now. I don't have much reason for going to Earth anymore."

Narayan shifted her shoulder slightly.

"No family there?", she asked.

"Well, my parents still live there, but almost all of my friends have moved on. And I've never really had a good relationship with my parents. We don't have much to say to each other."

Narayan pulled herself free from his hands and half-turned so she could see him. There was shock written all over her face, and anger.

"But they're still alive?", she asked.

"Well, yes–"

"Do you _know_ what I would give to speak to my parents just one more time? How can you waste your time with them on some small differences instead of paying attention to the important things? They're your parents!"

Bashir stared at her in shock, too, and then Narayan shook her head.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry. I did not mean to say that. I was very close to my parents and have troubles understanding when other people aren't."

Bashir nodded, still shocked at her outburst. It was the first time she'd shown any sort of emotional distress. He hadn't been expecting that, and certainly hadn't been expecting to be over something in his personal life. But he found himself unable to be angry at her; she had lost her parents and had no idea what it was like to live knowing she hadn't been born good enough for them.

He remembered the look on his mother's face when she had first seen him on DS9, though, and couldn't shake it from his memory. His traitor mind told him that wasn't the expression of someone who looked down at him, but someone who loved him and missed him…

Abruptly, Bashir shook his head to clear it. Things were somewhat better with his parents now, but there was always the suspicion at the back of his mind that what they had done was for themselves, not for him. He hadn't been perfect.

"It's all right," he finally managed. "And no, no other close family on Earth. I'm an only child."

She nodded, standing up and shaking her uniform jacket before slipping it back on, then putting the necklace back around her neck.

"What about you? Any siblings?"

"Not anymore," she replied in a voice that told him not to ask anymore questions. He wondered what had prompted him to ask that in the first place; she was obviously not fond of talking about her family. For different reasons than he.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Narayan shook her head.

"It was a long time ago, sir, and I apologize again for my outburst. It was uncalled for."

Bashir nodded to accept her apology, but wondered if her anger had been uncalled for. Maybe he was so used to demonizing his parents that he didn't see any other way of treating them… He shook that thought from his head; it was unnecessary here.

"Let's have breakfast then get moving," Narayan said. "If we can do average twenty kilometers a day, like we did yesterday, we'll only be out here for ten days."

Bashir nodded and joined her in preparing their uninspired breakfast.

* * *

The day went by much as the previous one hand, but with slightly harder terrain. They covered less ground, only seventeen kilometers before Narayan called a halt and they set up camp, this time much more quickly. Sitting around the fire, Bashir had cast about for topics that would be safe, and found himself talking about Bajor.

"I hear it's extremely beautiful," Narayan said, and there was a light in her eyes, one he had not seen in her before.

"It is," he agreed. "It's– well, it's beyond words. Even with the effects of the occupation, it's just such a stunning place. It has almost every non-Bajoran on the station enraptured."

"How many times have you been there?", Narayan asked.

"Several," Bashir replied, "But I've yet to have real shore leave there. I'm usually there for work related reasons, but I've always managed to find a few hours a day to enjoy it. I take it you've never been there?"

"No," Narayan said wistfully. "But there's a Bajoran doctor serving on my ship. He talks about it all the time, and he's shown me pictures. I'd love to go one day, to see one of their monasteries. I can just imagine how peaceful it would be." She glanced around, smirking slightly, and Bashir realized she was starting to loosen up somewhat. "Like this place, but without the added bonus of being stranded."

He chuckled, although it wasn't really heartfelt, and he didn't think her remark was, either. They had to make the best of it, but if she was feeling what he was, then she was tense and uncomfortable on this unknown world.

"What ship are you on?", he asked, realizing he hadn't asked her that yet.

"The _Sir John A. MacDonald_," she replied.

Bashir gave her a quizzical look.

"Who in the world is that?", he asked.

"My first question, too. Canada's first Prime Minister. It's a long name. Most of the crew just refers to it as the _Sir John_."

"Do you think they'll be looking for you by now?", he asked.

"They would have to be. They haven't heard from us in about seven days now, and we're supposed to check in every twenty-four hours, even if it's just by automated update. But I don't know how far we are from the rendezvous point, or how long it might take them to find this planet." She sighed, looking up at the sky, which was darkening from violet to a deep blue-purple. "I suppose we'll just have to be patient."

Bashir nodded. He knew they had no other choice, but there were times he felt so trapped here, with the future so uncertain.

"I'd better turn in," he said, and she nodded, bidding him good night. He slept well, then took over the watch from her, sitting alone in the cold darkness until dawn. The new day was colder than it had been yet, with clouds covering the sun, hanging low and threatening. Narayan eyed them warily as they packed up their tiny camp.

"We should try and make the best time we can," she said. "We might be in for some rain."

By early afternoon, the cloud cover had broken up somewhat, so that the sun burst through occasionally. This day was particularly slow going, as they were walking along a narrow stretch of the river which forced them into the forest.

Bashir halted suddenly, looking around. Narayan, who had been behind him, caught up to him, looking at him quizzically.

"What is it?", she asked.

"Shh," he said, holding up one hand, then: "Do you hear that?"

She glanced in the direction he was looking, then frowned.

"A high pitched buzzing? But intermittent?"

"Exactly," Bashir replied, pulling out his tricorder. He scanned the area quickly, then pointed ahead of him. "There. About a hundred meters. Some sort of signaling device."

They hurried through the underbrush, Bashir in the lead, following his tricoder's signals. They came to a large clearing, obviously artificial, in which a cylindrical device of some sort was surrounded by a chain-link fence. His tricorder told him it was also protected by a force field.

It was the first sign of intelligent life they'd seen.

"It's emitting some sort of beacon," Bashir said, approaching the fence, looking at the large cylindrical object housed behind it.

"Like a pulse," Narayan said.

Bashir nodded.

"I can't tell if it's a message, or just a standard beacon," he told her, glancing once more at the tricorder readings. Then he looked up at her. "But if we could get through the force field, we might be able to reconfigure the frequency to put out a low amplitude distress signal. It might help any Federation ships looking for us."

"I think that would be a bad idea," Narayan said.

"Why?", Bashir asked.

"I think it's a path finder. A standard position marker. Pilots used to use them on Earth to help them find airports; I remember reading that in my history of aviation class."

The pulse's cycle increased suddenly, although it remained just as difficult to hear.

"Look!", Narayan exclaimed, pointing toward the sky, back in the direction they had come. Bashir didn't see what she was pointing at for a moment, then caught it. An aerial vehicle was passing over them, too high to make out much of its features, but it was leaving no trail behind it. Bashir judged it was about two thousand meters above them, but it appeared to be descending. As it vanished from their view, the cylinder's pulse returned to its previous rhythm.

"I think you were right," Bashir said.

Narayan nodded.

"We can't damage a path finder beacon, especially not one in the mountains. But at least we know that now they have flight, whoever they are. That might bode well for us."

Bashir certainly hope so. Feeling slightly disappointed about it, he turned his back on the beacon and they set off again. He understood the logic of leaving it as it was, but it was frustrating to let such a good chance slip by.

_Better some inconvenience to us than a shuttle crash_, he thought.

As the afternoon wore on, the clouds blew over the sun again, and it began to drizzle. Bashir and Narayan pulled up the hoods on their thermal jackets and put on their gloves. They kept going through the grey, dreary daylight hours, emerging finally to walk on a rocky shore of the river for a few kilometers before climbing back up into the forest. It began to rain harder as evening approached and Bashir knew that despite the thermal clothing, they were in for a wet, cold night. Nonetheless, they pushed on, wanting to get as far as they could. Some time after Bashir had grown immune to the damp monotony, Narayan broke their pace.

"Doctor, look!", she exclaimed. He turned to see where she was pointing, and looked further into the trees. There was the ruins of a stone structure not twenty meters from them. Leaving the soggy game trail on which they had been walking for the past half hour, they both hurried through the sopping underbrush toward the ruins.

It appeared to have been a house or a cabin at one point. It was made entirely out of stone, although most of the rocks which had been carefully placed to make the walls had fallen and broken. One arc of the wall remained, and part of two inner walls that divided off a room in that area. The roof was completely gone, but Narayan pulled out the tarp.

"I have an idea," she said.

They spent fifteen minutes of hard work securing the tarp to what was left of the wall, propping up the front with a thin tree trunk which they had cut down and forced into the ground. This would give the tarp an angle, so that the rain slid off instead of pooling and later splashing down on them.

"It will keep us mostly dry," Narayan said. "But I don't think we'll have a fire."

"Rocks," Bashir replied. "Let's gather some of these stones. We can use our phasers to heat them."

She nodded and they gathered a healthy pile of stones, putting it close to the house wall. Beneath the tarp, in the shelter of the three remaining walls, it was fairly dry, and better once they had moved all the fallen leaves aside. Those had protected the ground from getting wet, so, although the ground was cold, it was dry. Their thermal clothing helped keep them dry, too, and warm.

"It looks like it's just rations tonight," Narayan commented, digging some from her pack as Bashir fired his phaser at the rocks. The heat they gave off was welcome, and he was so glad to have it that he didn't particularly mind the tasteless rations he had to eat.

"I know this isn't the best situation, but we're going to need to conserve heat," he said, pulling out the blankets, layering them one on top of the other. "Come on." He slung the blankets around his shoulders and hers. Narayan hesitated, then gave in, sitting against him, pulling the blankets close to her body.

"I can take first watch tonight if you'd like," he offered.

"It's all right," she replied. "I'm not that tired yet, and it's more efficient to keep up the pattern we already have. We don't need our bodies becoming confused."

Bashir nodded, but did not feel tired enough, either, to fall asleep yet. He watched the rocks, feeling the warmth on his face.

"Tell me about Lionus," he said suddenly. Once the request was out, he regretted it, but Narayan didn't tense or seem angry.

"What would you like to know?", she asked.

"Everything. Anything. Something to take my mind off this miserable rain."

To his utter surprise, she laughed.

"Well, when it was settled, there were ten thousand of us. We lived closer to the equator, although it's smaller than Earth, so it wasn't as tropical. Not like this though," she added, and Bashir saw her breath misting in the air. "Mind you, we lived on a savannah, not in the mountains."

"But you still learned survival skills there."

"Of course. You can't live in a colony and not know how to survive in the wilderness. By the time I was five, I could read the stars well enough to find my bearings, and I knew which plants I could eat and couldn't, and how to avoid predatory animals."

"Sounds like an education in itself. Ten thousand people. That must have been quite a shock going to Earth to attend the Academy."

"I lived on Mars before that," she replied. "It helped the adjustment."

Bashir felt there was something she was leaving out, but didn't press.

"Going from Earth to DS9 must have been a big adjustment, too," she pointed out.

"I wanted to go," he replied. "I wanted to get away, to see what we on Earth consider the frontier. I learned very quickly not to think of it that way. After all, to the Bajorans, it's not the frontier but the center of things. I think I offended the station's first officer, Major Kira, when I made a comment about the frontier."

"Is he or she Bajoran?"

"She. Yes, she is."

"Why did you become a doctor?"

"Because they used to scare me, but at some point, I realized I wanted to help people and I wanted to know what doctors knew. Why did you become a pilot?"

"I like to control things. I was always very skilled with piloting; it used to drive my parents crazy. I was flying colony shuttles, not with permission, of course, by the time I was eight. I used to get in a lot of trouble over that."

He nodded, staring out into the darkness. Narayan shifted, taking the phaser and reheating the rocks.

"My parents died when I was eleven," she said suddenly, not looking at him. "My sisters, too. They were both younger than me. There was an accident, an explosion. Twenty-three people died. I was away that day, at a training class. One of the colonists was a retired Starfleet captain and held training courses for children interested in going to the Academy."

"I'm sorry," Bashir said quietly.

"It was a long time ago," she replied, but he could hear in her voice that it could have been yesterday. And now she had two dead crewmates to bring up those painful memories. No wonder she had snapped at him the day before. He could scarcely blame her for being upset, for grieving. He'd become so used to her equanimity that it had been a surprise to find out she could feel emotionally off balance.

She moved again and the spell was broken. Bashir stared at the rocks for a few minutes longer, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"You can go to sleep, sir," she said.

"You can call me Julian," he muttered in reply. "I don't think we really need to stand on rank here."

"Julian, then," she said, and he heard some warmth in her voice. He closed his eyes and sleep was not long in coming, for which he was grateful. He really did not want to think anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

5

The temperature had dropped enough overnight that there was frost clinging to the leaves the next morning. Bashir and Narayan packed up their camp quickly, not wanting to linger, and ate their breakfast of rations while walking. Bashir eyed the sky; it had cleared up, and he hoped the weather would hold, so that they could have some real food for dinner that night. Narayan had told him to keep an eye out for berries, and they picked what they could as they went, each using an emptied water flask as a container.

The walking was easier that day, as the river had widened somewhat, allowing them access to the rocky and sandy bank most of the time. Around mid-afternoon, though, they came to a tributary following into the river which they had been following, and they stopped, looking at it critically. It was flowing fast and wide where it spilled into the larger river, and it seemed unsafe to cross at the mouth.

"We'll hike in a couple hundred meters and see if it's any narrower," Narayan said.

Just under one hundred meters upstream, the river did narrow enough to make the crossing easier. Bashir scanned it with his tricorder.

"It looks like it's about forty centimeters deep at the deepest point," he said.

Narayan nodded.

"Well, we might get our pants a bit wet, but there's nothing for it. Let's go."

They removed their boots, socks, and thermal pants, cramming them into their packs, and rolled up the legs of their uniform pants.

"It will be extremely cold," Bashir said. "We need to move as quickly as possible; neither of us needs to get sick."

"Right," she agreed. "Take my hand."

She stretched her hand back to him and he clasped it, following her. He gasped as the icy water hit his feet and ankles, then winced as he waded further into the current. He could see the tendons in Narayan's neck straining, she had her jaw set so hard. After only a few seconds, the muscles in the backs of Bashir's legs began to tense up against the cold and he hissed under his breath, forcing himself to keep going. The crossing wasn't wide here, only about five meters, but it was five meters of hell. Bashir tried to concentrate on something else, and kept his eyes on Narayan, who was picking their path carefully but fairly quickly. It was the first time he'd been able to watch her on this trek; normally, he was out in front. She was watching everything, eyes darting everywhere. He'd seen that kind of look in security officers before; she was drinking in as much detail as she could as quickly as she could.

They reached the opposite bank and, gasping, came out of the water.

"Ow, ow, ow," Bashir complained under his breath. Narayan was wincing and rubbing her calves, trying to shake some circulation back into her feet.

"Rocks again, I think," she said, and they very quickly gathered up a small pile of stones and heated it up with a phaser. They sat on the rocky bank, warming their feet until their legs were dry and the chill was gone from their bones. Then they put their boots, socks, and thermal pants back on. Narayan looked around, frowning, then beckoned him to follow her. She stopped at a sandy patch, and pointed at it. There were tracks in the wet sand.

"There's some sort of animal around here," she said. "We need to be careful. I'll lead now."

He nodded, happy to follow her for the moment. She guided them back to the larger river and they climbed up the bank, away from the tributary. Narayan was keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, and they walked in silence for half an hour, before she stopped and turned back to him.

"I think we're safe now, but we'll keep our ears open."

"Easily done for both of us," he commented dryly. She only raised an eyebrow in return. Bashir moved in front of her, then stopped, turning back.

"You're not really a pilot, are you?", he asked.

Shocked, she blinked, staring up at him.

"What? Yes, I am," she replied.

"All right," Bashir conceded. "Then you're not _just_ a pilot."

Narayan was silent for a moment.

"Intelligence?", Bashir asked.

She crossed her arms, looking displeased.

"How did you know? Are you?"

He shook his head.

"No. I just watched you. You seemed to know too much since the moment I met you. You notice everything. You're always listening. The pilots I know are very observant, but not so much as you. And they don't have the array of knowledge you have."

She sighed, then nodded.

"All right, yes, I am a Starfleet Intelligence officer."

"What's your real name?"

"My real name _is_ Syreeta Narayan," she replied.

"What are we really doing here?", Bashir asked.

"Doctor, if you think this is some sort of plot, think again. You can't possibly be that important, no matter what you might think of yourself. We're stranded here, and two of my crewmates are _dead_. If this was an intelligence mission, it would be a _really _poorly arranged one. What could Starfleet possibly gain by stranding two officers on some unknown planet in the Gamma Quadrant? Do you have all sorts of state secrets from the Romulans or Cardassians you'd like to share with me? Believe me, if I thought you had any valuable information, I could get it from you much more easily and subtlety than by asking outright."

"Well, I am enhanced," he pointed out. "Starfleet Intelligence might want something from me."

Narayan crossed her arms, a dark look flashing through her eyes.

"And this is how they'd get it? Doctor, _think_. Why would we bring you here, of all the damned places in the galaxy? I am stranded here, too, and I've lost two people. If Intelligence wanted anything from you, they'd have sent someone to the station. From what I understand of DS9, it's a hotspot for intelligence operatives from all kinds of political entities." She paused shake her head once. "Believe me, I have no more desire or reason to be here than you do. I just want to go home. That's it. Home. Do you understand that?"

Bashir nodded, feeling guilty, although he realized his suspicions had initially been justified. He had more or less accused her setting this up, without sparing a thought to the two dead crewmates she'd left behind. He hadn't actually been to her shuttle, of course, the long range sensors in the _Orinoco_ had showed him very clearly where it was.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

"Trust me, you get used to it after awhile," she replied. "Now, let's go."

He stayed close enough to her that they could talk.

"Why did you join? Can you answer that?"

"They recruited me in my second year at the Academy," Narayan replied. "I caught their eye in my admittance physical. It was the enhanced hearing. I'm surprised they never tried to recruit you."

Bashir sighed, glancing back at her.

"Only a few people knew until very recently that I'm enhanced," he said. "I kept it to myself, for the most part. I didn't think Starfleet would accept me if they knew. After all, it is against the law."

He glanced over his shoulder again and found her staring at him in shock, although she was still walking.

"Really?", she asked, her voice incredulous.

"Yes. I know I should have told them, but I couldn't risk it. I'm not Khan Singh." He wondered who he was trying to convince: her or himself. "I just wanted to be a doctor. I didn't ask to be enhanced."

"Neither did I," Narayan reminded him.

"Still, this was a deliberate choice that my parents made. Did your parents have any say in it?"

"Not that I know of," Narayan replied. "Maybe. I'll never know. It doesn't matter. What's done is done."

"For you," Bashir sighed.

"Starfleet obviously kept you," she pointed out.

"Yes," he had to admit. "My father's serving a prison term for it."

"If Starfleet kept you, then why does it bother you so much? You've obviously proven yourself well enough in your posting to keep your commission and your freedom. Like you said, it wasn't your choice."

Bashir nodded, but inwardly didn't agree. But she wouldn't understand it, no one did.

"Let's pick up the pace a bit," Narayan said. "We should be able to make up some time today."


	6. Chapter 6

6

Over the course of the next two days, they had good weather most of the time, although there were patches of rain, and overcast periods in which the temperature dropped sharply. Their path was alternately easy or difficult, depending on the river's width at any given time.

Bashir found himself growing used to Narayan's reserved companionship; she didn't speak much about herself after he had guessed she was with Starfleet Intelligence, but he suspected that was only part of the reason. She was still withdrawn on a personal level, keeping him slightly at bay. He filled in that gap with his own life; it had never been difficult to talk about himself. Except for the genetic engineering. He stayed away from that subject, and she didn't ask, and he wondered if she was even curious or cared.

Despite her reluctance to say much about herself, she had quickly taken to calling him "Julian" and had easily accepted him calling her "Syreeta". Bashir found it a relief to be on a first name basis with her; it made her seem more human, and it seemed to make the whole situation more tolerable. He was with someone who was like him, at least in a very basic respect. It helped, knowing that.

They hadn't seen much wildlife, other than the small game Narayan killed for their dinners, of course. But they day after Bashir had deduced that Narayan was an intelligence officer, they had seen another one of those cat-creatures. It had tracked them, on the opposite bank, keeping pace with them for three kilometers before vanishing back into the forest. Bashir had worried about that slightly, but Narayan had seemed unconcerned. The river was wide and fast, and the creature had probably just been tracking them along the boundaries of its territory. Bashir wished he felt as comfortable in the wilderness as she did. It unnerved him to be shadowed by such a predator, and he even found himself jumping at the sounds of nearby birds at night. On the station, the worst they'd had to worry about was Cardassian voles. A vole was not too likely to think of Bashir as dinner. When he had mentioned that, Narayan pointed out the predators on this planet had never seen humans before, and wouldn't necessarily equate them with food. That had helped allay some of Bashir's apprehensions.

It was mid-afternoon on their sixth day of hiking when Bashir stopped suddenly because Narayan had come to abrupt halt behind him. As he turned, he saw her tap her combadge.

"Berch? I read you! Come in!"

There was nothing but the sound of the forest around them, the wind moving through the leaves, the calls of distant birds.

"Narayan to _Sir John!_ Dammit, come in!"

She looked up at the violet sky, shaking her head, then back down at Bashir.

"I could have sworn I heard–", she said, then frowned. "I think you need to scan me. I think I'm hallucinating. Unless you heard something?"

He shook his head and approached her, pulling out a tricorder, scanning her just in case.

"I didn't, but I don't think you're hallucinating, Syreeta. When I was keeping watch this morning, I could have sworn I heard two of my friends talking to me." It had been Dax first, calling his name, then O'Brien, asking if Bashir could hear him.

"Why didn't you say anything?", Narayan said.

"I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, dragging up the memories of their voices. A human brain will some times toss up things at random."

Narayan sighed, rubbing her hands together.

"What the hell is going on here, Julian?", she asked.

"I know as much as you do," he replied with a sigh.

"We're stuck on this planet, we have no idea where we are, and each of us are hearing the voices of our crewmates. I don't like this."

"Believe me," Bashir said with feeling. "Neither do I."

She tapped her combadge again, just in case, but it responded only with the deadened chirp that told them both it wasn't linked to anything.

"Let's keep going," Bashir suggested.

"No," she countered. "Let's stop here for today. We've made good time already, and if we wash the blankets in the river, then hang them to dry, they'll be dry by nightfall."

"Good idea," Bashir agreed. The blankets had started to smell by now, as had their clothes. They both stank, Bashir thought wryly, of sweat and dirt. The river was far too cold to bathe in, so they'd have to content themselves with washing their faces and hands in the icy water. They had nothing to boil water in, and, even if they had, they had nothing with which to dry themselves.

They set up camp as best they could, foregoing the tent for the time being, stringing their rope between two trees in the sun. Then they washed the blankets and their spare clothing, and lit a fire nearby to help everything dry. Bashir took up his normal job of plant gathering as Narayan set out to hunt some unfortunate animal. When they both came back, Narayan set to work cooking, and Bashir cut two pieces of wood from a fallen tree for them to sit on. He sat down opposite his companion, rubbing his face. He had a healthy beard now, and wondered how he looked, and then thought perhaps he didn't want to know.

They sat munching on berries while the meat cooked. It still smelled delicious, but Bashir was beginning to tire of their culinary routine. It was better than rations all of the time, but it had nothing on a simple breakfast of scones and jam, or even anything from the replimat. He suddenly missed eating with Garak, and wondered what day it was, if he was maybe missing a lunch meal right now. He had no idea what kind of time change he may have experienced; it could easily be noon on the station, or even the middle of the night.

Then he thought again of not going back. Garak would probably be the only person truly upset by the loss of a genetically enhanced person. Oh, everyone else assured Bashir they didn't think differently of him, but he knew that they did. Garak had plainly stated he found the whole concept intriguing and had no qualms about pressing Bashir for all sorts of information on his enhancements and the process of genetic engineering. O'Brien, Dax, and the others, though… Would they always be aware, around him, of what he really was? _Things will never be the same_, he thought.

"It's done," Narayan said, shaking him from his reverie. She handed him some meat and he took it gratefully, eating in silence. He found himself glad they had stopped; they had indeed made good time that day, almost twenty kilometers, and he hadn't realized how much he needed a break.

"Who's Berch?", he asked her. Narayan looked slightly startled at the question; they had been sitting in silence so long, and Bashir wondered what thoughts had been occupying her.

"Oh, the Bajoran doctor aboard the _Sir John_."

"Friend of yours?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure they'll find you."

She gave him a funny look.

"And with me, you. You must be anxious to get back to your station."

Bashir sighed, looking down at the food he held in his hands.

"I suppose," he admitted.

"You suppose? You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"It's– Well, it's difficult to explain. Things have changed."

"Why?", she asked.

"Now everyone knows I'm genetically enhanced. They all think of me differently. Now I'm not Doctor Julian Bashir anymore."

"Did you lose friends over this?", she asked. She actually sounded incredulous, as if it was un heard of for anyone to turn his or her back on a friend who was a criminal.

"No," Bashir admitted. "But it still isn't the same. Before, I was one of them. Now, I'm different. Unnatural. A freak."

Her face went hard suddenly and Bashir was startled by the darkness of her expression.

"Take. That. Back.", Narayan growled in a low, menacing voice.

"What?", he asked.

"Take that back!", she snapped.

"Why?", he demanded in return. "What's it to you? Do you understand the process of genetic enhancement? There's nothing left of me that's unchanged. I _am_ unnatural."

She rose suddenly, her fists clenched, and Bashir honestly thought she was going to strike him. He pulled back, and she glared down at him with such fury that he could feel the heat coming from her.

"Don't you think I've had to listen to enough of that crap all of my life?", she hissed, her voice dangerous. "Don't you think there haven't been people who have whispered about me that _I'm_ a freak, unnatural, a mutant? Now you sit here telling me you are, and that makes me like you!"

Bashir stared at her.

"No, it doesn't!", he protested. "You only had your hearing enhanced–"

"Do you think people who care about that sort of thing draw lines!", she snapped, eyes flashing. "Do you think they have some kind of limit in which you are only a freak after a certain number of things have been enhanced! No! I have _good_ hearing, Julian, and I have heard what people have said about me when they thought I was out of earshot! I've lived my whole life knowing this and being honest about it, despite the fact that I knew it would bring trouble. Because _I know_ that I'm not a freak! I know I'm not unnatural! I'm still a human being!"

"Everything about me was altered!", he shot back. "And what would you know about having to hide it because it's illegal?"

"Oh yes, what was done to me was perfectly legal, wasn't it? Starfleet accepts the official version of the story that it was an accident, but I have friends who are doctors! Do you honestly think I don't know that this is almost impossible to do by accident? Do you think I know it probably wasn't deliberate? I can't question the doctor who did this; he died a long time ago! Maybe he didn't intend it, but I doubt it, but I also doubt he intended me to think of myself as a freak! He wanted me to have an advantage! I couldn't _hear_ when I was born! He wanted something better for me! Maybe my parents did, too, I don't know!"

Bashir rose as well, anger churning within him.

"You don't know what it's like to know your parents aren't proud of you!" he snapped.

"No! I don't! I don't know what it's like to have parents who are proud of me, either! I don't _have_ parents, Julian! How do you know yours aren't? Did they say that to you? They think you're a failure?"

"They didn't think I was good enough for them! They had to have me enhanced!"

"Why did they do it? Was there something wrong?", she asked.

Bashir calmed down a bit, feeling a familiar shame.

"I struggled with school when I was a child. It took me a long time to learn things. I was behind all of my classmates, and it didn't look like I'd catch up."

Narayan crossed her arms, but when she spoke, she was no longer yelling.

"And there's no possibility they did this because they wanted you to have more? Because they wanted you to succeed and be happy and productive and get the most you could out of your life?"

Bashir glowered at her. That was similar to what his mother had said. They hadn't been ashamed of him, they had wanted to help him.

"And now, what? You push them out of your life because you've decided their motivations for them? I don't think my parents were ashamed of having a deaf daughter! I think they wanted me to have all the opportunities I could possibly have!"

"You're one to talk about pushing people out of my life," Bashir snapped. He hadn't wanted to say that, but it was out, and there was no taking it back.

"What?", Narayan demanded.

"Do you treat everyone the way you've treated me?", he asked. "Do you keep them at arm's length because you're so afraid of losing someone that you don't want to risk them getting to know you? I'm sorry your family's dead, but do you think they'd want you living without any real relationships?"

"Don't assume you know anything about me!", she snarled.

"I don't! How could I? You've hardly told me anything!"

"I don't need you to solve any problems I might have, Doctor! I didn't ask to be psychoanalyzed! And I certainly didn't ask to be stranded with a man who thinks so poorly of himself! You said you weren't Khan Singh. He believed he was superior to other humans. Do you have to believe you're inferior to everyone else to prove you aren't like him?"

Bashir stared at her; no one had ever thrown Khan Singh at him that way. Narayan glared at him for a moment, then made a disgusted noise, waved a dismissive hand sharply, and stalked away. He watched her head down toward the river and begin washing her hands vigourously. He opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it abruptly, sitting back down on the log.

His mind reeled. The anger still burned in him, but it was accompanied now by confusion. What had possessed them to say those things? He hadn't even thought poorly of Narayan for keeping her distance until now. He hadn't realized until he'd said it that she did indeed seem to keep a shield between herself and the rest of the galaxy.

Bashir rubbed his face with his hands, wishing they could take back the last ten minutes and erase them. He didn't need this. She didn't need this. They were stranded together, they were each other's only hope of survival. But now…

He didn't want to talk to her, and doubted she wanted much to do with him. With a sigh, he stood up and checked the drying blankets and clothing. They needed to keep going, no matter what, and the sooner they reached that settlement, the better off they'd both be.


	7. Chapter 7

7

The next two days passed in almost complete silence. They spoke to each other only when necessary, doing their chores quickly and efficiently. It seemed easier, for the moment, rather than trying to mend any fences, but it gave Bashir a lot of time to think.

Time he didn't necessarily want.

Her last comment to him was what stuck out in his mind. Hard as he might, he couldn't shake it. Was she right? Did he see himself as inferior because Singh had insisted on superiority? Was this a way of distancing himself from the infamous Augment everyone immediately thought of when they heard the words "genetically enhanced"?

At first, he had hotly denied that to himself, but as the hours wore by, he began losing the fight. Was she also right that he had pushed his parents out of his life? They had begun to repair their relationship when they had visited him on the station, but Bashir still partly believed it had been for them, not for him, that they had done this.

And what about O'Brien, and Dax? He could remember the things he'd said to them after they'd found out. How he had walked on eggshells around them. Were they treating him differently, or was he treating them differently because he thought they could never see him as the same person again?

Did he have a right to use his enhancements to their fullest, to take this thing that had been done to him and make it into something good?

He began to worry that he did indeed have that right. With the worry came the dismissive voice in his head telling him no, he couldn't do that. But right behind it was the question "why not?". Because of Khan Singh? How much longer, he thought, would he have to live in that man's shadow? Singh had died over one hundred years ago. And, as had been pointed out to him once, he was not Singh, nor did he have any desire to take over the galaxy. He wanted to be a doctor. He _was_ a doctor.

What if he could be a better doctor taking full advantage of the enhancements?

What if that's what his parents wanted for him? Not to feel guilty, but to be the best Julian Bashir he could possibly be? He would never agree with their decision, because Federation law forbade it. But what was done was done, as Narayan had said earlier.

By the end of the second day after their argument, he was feeling extremely guilty for the things he'd said to her, because he was coming to terms with the fact that she was right about some of the things thatshe had said to him. If he called himself a freak, then so was she, even if it was on a smaller scale. And neither of them could change what had happened to them.

And he had been attributing motives to his parents' action. All of his life. He had been denying himself the full extent of his skills for fear of what he could become. But he was not Singh. He was a good man. And he frankly had no desire to run anything larger than his infirmary. He could see clearly now that the temptation had never been there. He was smarter than almost everyone he knew, and learned far more quickly, but that did not make him some sort of super human. There were things O'Brien could do that Bashir could not. He couldn't run the station the way Sisko could. He couldn't give life to stories the way Jake could. He didn't have the eight lives of experience that Dax had. He didn't have the military and survival skills Kira had. There was a whole list of things he did not know how to do, or skills that he did not have, and it was long.

But he was a doctor, and a damn good one. Why was he keeping himself from being the best doctor he could be?

After they had stopped for the night, set up camp, and had the fire going, Bashir said down across from Narayan.

"Syreeta," he started. "I want to apologize for what I said to you. I had no right to infer anything about your personal life. I hardly know you, and this isn't the most social of situations."

She looked up at him, startled.

"I don't want you to apologize," she said, but although her voice was level, it wasn't hard. "I don't want you to feel sorry. I think you were right. No. You _were_ right. I just never wanted to have to own up to it."

It was his turn to be surprised.

"I can't speak for your life, Julian. I can't say how you should feel about what was done to you. Just because I've accepted it in myself doesn't mean you have to have the same experience. But– I always knew I kept my distance, because I am afraid of losing people. I thought it was easier. Maybe it isn't."

"And I thought fighting myself and hating my parents for what happened was easier. Maybe it isn't. I just want to be a doctor. Not a dictator."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the flames.

"What were your sisters' names?", Bashir asked.

"Hara and Navinder," she replied, and there was a slight smile on her lips when she looked back up at him. "They were two and four years younger than me. I loved them. I still love them."

"You said you didn't have parents to be proud of you," Bashir said. "I think they would be, if they were here."

"Thanks," Narayan whispered. She studied him for a moment. "I'm sure your parents are proud of you, too, Julian. I'm sure they always were."

He nodded. It would take time to believe that, but at least it seemed possible to believe it now.

"Tell me about living on Mars," he suggested. "I've only ever been there once."

"To which part?", she asked.

"Valles Marineris and Olympus Mons."

She smiled.

"Beautiful places. I lived on Utopia Planetia. Not the orbiting station, but the actual plain on Mars. I worked as a farm hand. It was a good living, because it's pretty quiet. Before that, I lived in Calcutta."

"I thought you lived in Lionus?"

"I did. After my parents died, I went to live with my mother's family in Calcutta. I hated it. It smelled so strange, all of the time, and there were too many people. I ran away. To Mars. Even back then, I just wanted to be on my own."

"How old are you?", he asked.

"Twenty-seven. You?"

"Thirty-two."

"What's it like on your station?"

Bashir thought about that for a moment.

"Most of the time, chaotic. I haven't ever served on a starship, except occasional runs the _Defiant_ makes, but I imagine it's so much more controlled on a Starfleet ship. It's an open port, so we have everyone passing through. There's a Cardassian tailor who lives there, well, he says he's a tailor, but he used to be an agent for the Obsidian Order, I'm sure."

"Ah, yes," Narayan said with a smile. "Mister Garak."

"You've heard of him?"

"I'm an intelligence officer, Julian. I don't know everything Intelligence knows, but I think we've all heard of Garak."

Bashir grinned.

"We have Klingons through there all of the time; they cause the most trouble. There's a Feringi who runs a bar, we've had Gul Dukat and other Cardassians there, most notably two female scientists who helped us establish a permanent communications link with the Gamma Quadrant."

"I remember reading that report," Narayan said. "Another thing I'm sure we all know."

"It's a great place. I wouldn't trade my commission for anything in the galaxy. It was the one I wanted when I graduated from medical school. How about you? Was the _Sir John_ what you wanted?"

She gave him a wry smile.

"I go where Intelligence sends me. I didn't have a particular mission in mind, because that's not how it works for me."

She left it at that and Bashir understood she probably couldn't say anything more. But not because she wanted to protect herself from being hurt; because she was under orders not to. _What a fitting job for someone who never wanted to get close to anyone_, he thought. _I wonder if all intelligence officers have something to hide from?_ Certainly, it couldn't be an easy career, never being able to talk freely about one's day or assignments.

He wondered if she liked her job, but didn't ask. Possibly, she couldn't comment on that, either. Bashir imagined if she was unsatisfied, it probably would have been dealt with by now by her superiors. It would be dangerous to have an unhappy intelligence agent.

They spent the rest of the evening companionably, the explosive argument of two days ago dwindling into the past. When twilight began to threaten, they pulled down the clothes and blankets and set up the tent. Narayan took first watch, as was their established pattern, and Bashir went to bed, grateful that he could do so without any thoughts of their fall out.

He slept fitfully that night, though, plagued by dreams in which his friends on the station walked through the campsite, calling to him. Although he yelled back, they did not hear him, and when he tried to stop them, to grab them, or stand in front of them, they kept moving as if he were not there. The dreams faded to new dreams of being back on the station, but still being invisible. He would walk like a ghost along the promenade, watching the inhabitants go about their daily routines as if he weren't there. When he awoke, he could almost hear Dax's voice, clear as a bell, saying to him: "Come on, Julian, I know you can hear me."

He traded shifts with Narayan, who did not comment to him about seeing anyone or hearing any voices. He left her to go to sleep and sat in the darkness, missing his friends now more than ever.

* * *

In the end, they had to walk for twelve days to reach the settlement. The last three days passed well, given that their disagreement was sorted out, and Bashir found himself truly warming to Narayan. Once she had let him past her cold exterior, she turned out to be a deeply caring and compassionate woman. There were still things of which she would not speak, of course, mostly related to her assignment. But she refused to speak of the two crew members who had died in her shuttle, not even giving Bashir their names. He had backed off on that subject and left it alone after raising it the first time. This did not seem to be the time for her to deal with it, and if she had issues with survivor guilt later on, it could be sorted out with a counselor.

He found out more about Lionus and her life there, and her time on Mars before coming to the Academy. He told her what he remembered about being in the hospital on Adigeon Prime, and about his life after that before entering the Academy. He talked more about the station, but she did not mention the _Sir John_ at all, which didn't surprise him.

The walking was getting easier as they came to the edges of the foothills, although it was by no means an easy stroll. Everywhere he looked, Bashir could see signs of an ancient glaciation in the way the hills and valleys were shaped. There were no tree lines anymore; the hills were completely forested. Occasionally, they came across evidence of predators, but saw no more of the black cat-creatures. Nor did they find any more signs of habitation, like the stone ruins or the position beacon. It seemed the mountains had either been abandoned or never properly settled. There were no traces even of hunters out here. Although they had seen the shuttle flying above them, and the ruins of a place where someone must have once lived, they had not set eyes on a single inhabitant of this planet yet. Bashir found himself wondering often what these people would be like, and hoped fervently that they weren't Jem'Hadar or any other Dominion subjects. It would be the worst outcome to their long trek to find the settlement inhabited by loyal Dominion soldiers. Bashir had no illusions that they wouldn't die if caught, and he certainly didn't want to flee back into the mountains and trek all the way back to their shuttles.

At other times, he found himself wondering what it was going to be like going home. He had grown so accustomed to Narayan being his only companion that it would be difficult to readjust to both the amount of people on the station and her absence. Would they ever see each other again? Would they bother writing? Or would they go their separate ways, two people who had nothing to connect them except a shared survival experience?

Or, when they reached the settlement, would they find the inhabitants incapable of warp flight and have no means of contacting Narayan's ship? Would they have to live their lives out here? If so, would they be forced to live as hermits, with only each other for company, or would they be able to pass as the inhabitants of this world if not too closely examined? The possible futures seemed endless, and Bashir found himself growing more apprehensive as they approached the settlement. At least alone with Narayan in the mountains, he'd known where he stood. He could deal with one other Starfleet officer and with their situation. Not knowing what lay ahead left him edgy, like he was standing on the edge of a deep, yawning chasm and losing his balance.

It was late morning when they finally came around the final bend in the river that hid the settlement from it. It was still several kilometers away, downhill. It was a decent size, but not that big, perhaps three or four hundred thousand people, Bashir judged. Then he chuckled to himself. That was one hundred times the population of the station, and thirty times the population of Lionus. To Narayan, it may well seem huge, but to Bashir, having lived on Earth so long, it seemed a reasonable amount of people. Buildings were spread out on either side of the river, and there were two bridges Bashir could see spanning the waters. One appeared to be covered. Just outside the city was an area of cleared land. Bashir couldn't tell what it was at first, until something passed low overhead, startling both of them. They watched the shuttle touch down in the cleared area.

"Well," Narayan said, gesturing vaguely in front of them. "Shall we?"

"The sooner the better," Bashir said, trying to calm the nervousness that had hold of his stomach. That shuttle hadn't looked like a Jem'Hadar vehicle at any rate. Hopefully, that was good news.

They stepped forward, into the sudden light that flashed off of the river.


	8. Chapter 8

8

Light filtered slowly into his vision, a dim, quiet light that seemed to spread out evenly all around him.

Artificial light.

In the background, he could hear soft sounds, familiar sounds.

Reluctantly, Bashir blinked himself awake.

"It's about time," a cheerful female voice said from beside him and Bashir opened his eyes. He registered immediately that he was in his own infirmary. It was Dax who had spoken to him, and she was standing beside the biobed, grinning down at him. "You had us a bit worried these last few hours. Quark was going to start taking bets on whether you'd wake up or just sleep the rest of your life away."

"Jadzia?", Bashir muttered in confusion. Then relief swept through him. "Oh, thank God. Am I glad to see you. Where did you find us?"

Dax's smile changed to a frown.

"Us?", she asked.

"Me and Syreeta. Or was it her ship? Where is she?"

He pushed himself up on his elbows, regretted it for a moment as his vision blurred, and looked around.

There was no one in the infirmary but him and Dax.

"Who's Syreeta?", Dax asked.

"Lieutenant Syreeta Narayan," Bashir replied quickly. "Where is she? We were stranded together on that planet."

"Julian, slow down. There was no planet. I don't know what you're talking about."

"The _Orinoco_ crashed on a planet in the Gamma Quadrant," he explained. "That must be where you found us. We were stranded there, and couldn't get either of our shuttles' communication systems working."

Dax gave him a puzzled, concerned look.

"Julian, we didn't find you on a planet. We picked you up in the _Orinoco_ a few hours ago. Your shuttle hit a subspace eddy and it knocked out some of you systems, as well as you. We towed you back to the station with the _Defiant_ and brought you down here."

Bashir stared up at her, uncomprehending.

"A few hours ago? No, Jadzia, I've been gone for nearly two weeks."

"You were at the conference on Betazed, but that was only for one week," Dax said, shaking her head. "Do you remember that?"

"Of course I remember that," Bashir replied. "I mean after that."

"After that, you came back here, hit the eddy and we brought you home. Julian, you've been unconscious and then sleeping for just about three hours, but that's it. I swear to you, only a few hours have gone by. You weren't missing; we knew where you were the entire time. I think you must have been dreaming."

"What?", he asked, sitting up fully. Dax put her hands out to steady him, but he ignored her. "Computer, what stardate is this?"

"Five-three-four-eight-point-eight."

Bashir felt his stomach drop. Exactly the stardate he remembered before the crash.

"You said I hit a subspace eddy. What if it did something to the timeline?", he demanded.

Dax shook her head.

"It was just a normal eddy, Julian; I've already analyzed it. No chronotons, nothing unusual. And we never once lost contact with the _Orinoco_, even though we couldn't get through to you personally. We always had it on our sensors, too."

Bashir felt dizzy, like he had been punched in the gut. Had it all been a dream? Those thirteen days with Narayan, had his mind made all of that up? It had seemed so real, and he had gone through all of those thirteen days, every minute of them. How could that possibly be a dream?

But here he was, on the station, and it was the same day on which he was meant to return, and there was no sign of Narayan. He blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Sisko to Dax."

"Dax here, go ahead, Benjamin."

"Any change down there?"

"Julian's awake, but I'm afraid he's a little disoriented. He thinks he was missing for two weeks."

"I'll be down shortly. Sisko out."

"I'm just going to get Nurse Jabara to examine you," she said. "Sit tight."

He didn't know what else to do. He felt as if part of his life had been ripped away from him, and no one else noticed or cared. Thirteen days. Twelve of those days had been spent trekking through a mountain range with a woman he'd barely known at first. Bashir didn't know what to think; only a few minutes ago, to him, he had been wondering what his life would be like when she was no longer around. He had spent all that time just with her and now–

Now she was just a dream? Someone his mind had made up for him?

Bashir lay back down, staring blankly at the wall. Dax had no reason to lie to him, of course, nor did the computer. But how was this possible? How could his mind have deceived him so completely? He wasn't even sure how to feel. What is this was just a dream, and he'd wake up again in the mountains? He tried to force himself awake, then realized he was already conscious. Besides, the last thing he remembered was that flash of sunlight – or some kind of light – off of the river. Not going to sleep.

Jabara came in, smiling at him.

"Good to see you awake, Julian," she said. "Lie still and I'll have a look at you."

He let her examine him; he knew her well enough to trust her professional competency.

"Well, you look fine. A bit of a concussion when you were knocked out of course, but nothing you won't shake off in a day or so. I'd still recommend you take tomorrow off and rest."

He nodded, unsure what else to do. Sisko came in then, grinning.

"Julian, I'm glad you're back," he said. "But Dax said you were disoriented? What happened?"

Bashir sat up again.

"Sir, I don't know how to explain this to you, but I was missing for thirteen days, not a few hours."

Sisko nodded.

"I have a clear memory of every moment of each of those days!", Bashir continued. "I was with another Starfleet officer, and we were stranded on a planet in the Gamma Quadrant!"

"Julian, I'm sorry, but you didn't even come anywhere near the wormhole," Sisko said. "We analyzed the hell out of that eddy; there was no temporal disturbance. There's no indication you ever left the _Orinoco_ and it certainly hasn't been thirteen days."

"You may have dreamt it," Jabara told him gently. "I checked in on you. After about an hour, you went from being unconscious to sleeping. You would have gone through a normal REM cycle."

"But a dream of thirteen days?", Bashir asked, although he knew with a sinking feeling it was possible. Dreams came and went so quickly, and he was prone to having particularly vivid dreams, with his brain enhanced as it was.

But Narayan… She had been so real. Despite what Dax said, there must be a possibility that something had happened to him. He couldn't just write this off as a dream. Too much had happened to him for it to have been imagined.

"If you want, you can review my scans and analysis tomorrow," Dax offered.

"I'd like to do that," Bashir replied.

"Come by the lab at around eleven hundred, and we'll go for lunch afterwards."

It sounded so normal, as if he wasn't sitting here with two weeks of his life missing and Narayan gone, like she'd never existed. But to them, it had only been a few hours. He'd been away at an ordinary conference and had come home, with only a short delay.

"Can I go now?", he asked Jabara.

"Yes," she replied. "But I mean it about taking tomorrow off."

He nodded; he wasn't about to argue. He had work of his own to do.

"You sure you're okay, Julian?", Sisko asked. "You know we'll check this out."

"I know, sir," Bashir said nodding. "I don't know how to feel. I'm missing so much time. But to you, I'm not. It seemed so real– no, it _was_ so real. I'm not sure what to think."

"No one ever said life on this station was run of the mill. Make sure you get some rest, and we'll work on this first thing tomorrow morning."

That wasn't soon enough for Bashir. When he returned to his quarters, which were exactly the way he'd left them either one or three weeks ago, depending on which version of reality was valid, he called O'Brien and arranged to meet him for breakfast the next morning. The chief sounded more than a little relieved to hear Bashir's voice, and Bashir found himself feeling nothing but anticipation in seeing his friend again. It was with a jolt he realized the guilt over the enhancements and the feeling he must be different had taken several seconds before rearing their ugly heads.

He pushed that aside and went to have a shower. No matter what Dax and Sisko said, it had been two weeks since he'd had a real shower and he'd need to shave, too. But his reflection in the mirror caught him off guard. He did not need to shave. Instead of the healthy beard he'd had on his face by the end of the trek, Bashir had only a five o'clock shadow. He stared at himself, then ran a hand slowly over his chin.

It was only supposed to have been a few hours since he'd contacted the station…

Shaking his head firmly, Bashir activated the water shower, foregoing the sonic option, and turned up the heat as high as it could go. Thirteen days in the mountains with only freezing cold river water had left him with a chill he couldn't shake. He stayed in for twenty minutes, then climbed out, and changed into his pajamas. A fresh change of clothes that wasn't his uniform. For a moment, it felt alien.

Then he put that aside and went to his personal terminal and set to work. There were things he needed to find if he was going to prove his story. Starting with Syreeta Narayan and her whereabouts.

* * *

When the door buzzer sounded the next morning, Bashir didn't bother looking up when he told the computer to admit O'Brien. His friend came into the livingroom and looked startled.

"Julian! You look like hell! Didn't you sleep?"

Bashir shook his head, gesturing to the chair opposite him. O'Brien hurried over and sat down, looking worried.

"Why not? Are you all right? Dax told me that you dreamt you were missing for two weeks."

"I didn't dream it, Miles," Bashir sighed, running his hands over his face, the lower part of which was now covered with stubble. "I couldn't have dreamt it. I lived those thirteen days in the mountains with Lieutenant Narayan. I don't know what happened to me, but I can't have just been asleep for a few hours!"

"Whoa, whoa," O'Brien said. "Dax mentioned you thought you were with a woman named Narayan. Tell me what happened."

And Bashir did. He found he couldn't hold back; he told O'Brien everything, every little detail he could remember, all of their conversations, about the shuttles and the position marker, the abandoned house, the cat-creatures, about finding another Starfleet officer on the same remote planet, against all odds. O'Brien listened silently, attentively, as Bashir spoke, never once interrupting.

"And I can't find any record of her," Bashir finished bitterly, gesturing at the computer station at which he had spent the entire night. "I tried every kind of search I could imagine, but nothing. Miles, there never was a Syreeta Narayan! But how is that possible? How could I have made all of that up? I checked for the _Sir John A. MacDonald_, but it was decommissioned twelve years ago! How would I know that?"

"Because I told you," O'Brien said. "A cousin of mine served on the _Sir John_ as first officer. I can't remember why I was talking about it, but I do remember mentioning it."

Bashir blinked, then closed his eyes as the memory came back to him. He remembered now, too.

"But what about the air flight position marker? How would I know they used to use them on Earth?"

O'Brien shook his head.

"I don't know, Julian, but with your memory, I wouldn't be surprised if you heard it once and always remembered it. And it isn't much of a stretch; most terrestrial flights still use some sort of signal beacon, but they usually come from satellites now."

Bashir felt as if he were sinking further and further into his couch. He shut his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead.

"Is this how it felt after the Argrathi prison, Miles?"

"I don't know, Julian; I don't know how you feel."

Bashir swallowed hard.

"I feel like she died. She never existed, but I feel like she died. Maybe– maybe she was only in my mind, but she was _real_, dammit!"

"Then yes, that's how it felt."

"I don't– This doesn't even begin to compare with what those twenty years were like for you, I know. But what am I supposed to do now? All of a sudden, Syreeta's gone and everyone's telling me it was just a dream? How could something so vivid be just a dream?"

O'Brien shook his head.

"I don't understand how anyone's brain works, especially yours."

"I understand this isn't twenty years–"

"Julian, you don't have to try and justify the time difference. Our experiences were different, but that doesn't make what you went through any less real than what I went through. Look, I'm probably the only person on the station who understands what it's like to lose someone who never really existed in the first place. Everyone can tell you it was just a dream; you can say it to yourself all you want. And maybe it never happened anywhere but in your mind, but it _did_ happen. Even if it was just to you."

"I checked _everything_, Miles. The colony on Lionus. It was settled nearly thirty years ago, and Syreeta's only twenty-seven! But she said she was the youngest person to land there, and that she'd been born en route. And there's no record of any accident killing anyone sixteen years ago. Lionus does have two moons, but I remember the shape of the continents on Syreeta's necklace and they're all wrong. And I can't find a Bajoran doctor named Berch in Starfleet or the Bajoran Medical Authority anywhere. She just– doesn't exist."

O'Brien nodded slowly. At least he understood how this felt, Bashir thought. It was a mixed blessing. Now that he himself knew what this was like, he wished to hell O'Brien had been spared it.

"Julian, have you eaten yet?", his friend asked.

"What? No."

"Right." O'Brien rose and went to the replicator. "Scones with raspberry jam, two raktajinos, two eggs, scrambled, sausage, and brown toast."

The replicator deposited their food with a hum and O'Brien brought it over. Bashir accepted it, suddenly famished, and bit into the scone gratefully. He had subsisted on rations, wild game and plants for nearly two weeks now; he hadn't had his usual breakfast since… yesterday.

In the _Orinoco_. He could remember that. The problem was, his brain was telling him it had been two weeks ago.

"I'm not sure what to tell you, Julian," O'Brien said, shoveling some eggs onto his fork. "If something did happen, Dax will find it. I can't explain what went on. I know what it feels like, though, to be missing all that time. I hate to say it, because I know how crass it sounds, but you'll get used to it. It'll fade."

Bashir wanted to shake his head but didn't. How could Narayan ever fade? How could she not be out there, living her life? _Was_ she out there somewhere, wondering where the hell he was? Or was she some old, forgotten memory too, a woman he'd met once, her name dragged back up by his brain for no particular reason?

He knew O'Brien would never understand the loss of a real companion. Narayan hadn't been a fellow convict, and they hadn't been locked up together, helpless and at the mercy of their jailers. They had been forced to work together to survive, and that survival had been an accomplishment. And they'd had their freedom, there wasn't the desperation of being in prison. Yes, they had been stranded, but their limit had been that entire world, not a tiny cell.

"It might help to talk to the counselor," O'Brien suggested.

Bashir sighed.

"I remember ordering you to do that," he commented.

"And I hated you for it at first," O'Brien replied easily. "I just wanted to be alone. But it did help."

Bashir shook his head.

"I don't want to be alone," he said. There was no statement more true. He was afraid if he was alone now, that the memory of Narayan would overwhelm him. He had not been alone those thirteen days and it had kept him sane. He didn't realize how much he'd come to depend on her presence until it was gone.

"We're your friends, Julian. We're all here for you."

Amazingly, Bashir believed that. Despite all the self-consciousness that came with knowing he had lied to them all these years, he believed that. They _were_ his friends. That hadn't changed.

* * *

He spent the later part of the morning with Dax, going over all of her data very carefully, finding nothing anomalous in it. Each minute was more disheartening than the last. Her scientific evidence was piling up on top of his inability to find any trace of Narayan in any Federation record. Perhaps she had simply existed only in his mind… That thought made his heart heavy.

They had lunch together, joined by Garak, who was pleased to see Bashir again. It was obvious the Cardassian was interested in Bashir's experience, and just as obvious that Dax wanted to keep the conversation away from that topic. She asked all about the conference and he answered, refusing to be diverted; he didn't really want to think about Narayan just then. Garak, at least, was more than intelligent enough to get the hint and kept his questions to himself. Bashir knew he couldn't escape the Cardassian's inquiries forever, but it was enough that he could do so right now.

Afterwards, he went back to his quarters and relieved himself of duty for another day. He was exhausted. Twelve days of hiking, with only six hours of sleep per day, even if they had never happened, had left him in need of sleep. And he'd had no sleep the night before. Bashir managed to put on his pajamas before falling into bed. He slept without dreaming.

It was the early hours of the morning when he awoke, feeling better, at least physically. Afraid that lying in bed would only start him thinking about what had or hadn't happened, he got up, dressed, shaved, and wandered down the promenade.

Everything was closed now, even Quark's. There was no one around, and Bashir climbed to the upper level, moving to stand next to the large windows. He looked out into space, toward where he knew the wormhole was. He did have friends out there, on other ships, a few still on Earth, or on other worlds. And he had friends here, good friends.

"Doctor?", a voice said from behind him and Bashir started inwardly, turning. Odo stood behind him and to one side, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Constable," Bashir replied.

"Everything all right?"

"No, not really," Bashir said.

"Anything I can help you with?"

Bashir sighed.

"No, Odo, I'm afraid not. I wish it were a simple security matter."

The wormhole flared to life suddenly, stayed open for a moment, then closed just as abruptly. Bashir was startled, but Odo appeared unphased.

"It's been opening and closing inexplicably for a few days now," Odo said. "We were worried it was Dominion ships coming through, at first, but Chief O'Brien and Commander Dax say it isn't open long enough. A ship would have to be traveling through at warp, apparently, to get out fast enough. And since that isn't possible, it seems nothing's coming through."

"Why is it happening then?", Bashir asked.

Odo shrugged.

"Who could guess at the motivations of the wormhole aliens, Doctor? Perhaps this just something they do every so many centuries and we're only now seeing it."

Bashir nodded vaguely, looking out at the darkness where the wormhole was, where it had lit up so brightly a minute ago. He had seen his flight path, and checked the station's logs as well as the _Defiant_'s. He hadn't come near the wormhole, hadn't been in the Gamma Quadrant. Hadn't been gone for thirteen days.

He'd only been asleep, dreaming.

"If you'll excuse me, Constable," Bashir said.

"Of course, Doctor. Have a good night."

Bashir nodded, knowing he probably wouldn't, and went back to his quarters.

* * *

Two weeks passed, slowly. Around him, life on the station continued as normal, and Bashir felt himself being drawn back into that, while staying apart from it. He felt as if there were two Julian Bashirs, one who lived on Deep Space Nine, who had his friends there, his life. He did his job better than he normally did, and played darts and fought Spaniards with O'Brien, ate with Garak, shared drinks with Dax. He even recorded a brief letter to his parents, telling them about the conference.

Then there was the second Bashir, the one who watched all of this happening, detached. The second part of him wasn't living his life, he was reliving the thirteen days in the mountains, and thinking of Narayan. Always thinking of Narayan. There were times when he woke up and expected to see her sitting next to a fire. There were times, when he was alone, that he was sure he heard her voice. Once he even caught a faint whiff of the scent of the mountains: the cold, clean air, the smell of the trees and the dirt. Then it was gone again.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be depressed.

Her memory didn't fade, as O'Brien had said it would. She wasn't real, but she had been real enough to Bashir, and he found himself stubbornly unwilling to let that go. Even if she had been just a dream, she had helped him with so many things. It was easier, now, to see how people still accepted him despite the enhancements. It was easier even to live with the enhancements. What was done was done; she'd been right about that. Against his will or no, he had been given a gift, and it would be foolish to squander it because of what some other man like him had done centuries ago. He wasn't Khan Singh, he was Julian Bashir, and there was a galaxy of difference between them. Because he chose it to be so. Real or not, Narayan had given him the ability to see that.

He went to bed one night and dreamt he was back on the planet. He was alone, sitting and watching the settlement they'd never reached, but unwilling to go down and see what it was. It didn't seem to matter now. It was his dream, he would find whomever he wanted to find down there. He just sat in the river valley, looking down at the town below, until he woke up.

Bashir felt worse upon waking up than he had since he'd regained consciousness on the station. He lay in bed for a few moments, then got up and dressed hurriedly. His duty shift didn't start for another hour, and there was someone he wanted to see. He made his way through the corridors, which were still fairly empty at this hour, and arrived at Kira's quarters. Knowing she'd be awake, he pressed the buzzer. A moment later, he was admitted and stepped over the raised lip of the doorway. Kira was wrapped in a robe and looked puzzled upon seeing him.

"Julian, how are you?", she asked.

"I've been better," he replied dryly. "Major, there's something I need you to arrange for me."


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note_: There's an author's note at the end. I don't want to give anything away.

9

A tiny stream trickled into the small, stone slab lined pool. He was surrounded by trees and flowers that blocked the view of the rest of the monastery grounds, for which Bashir was grateful. A slight breeze shifted the leaves above him; he could hear their rustling, and it reminded him of the sound of the alpine meadow in which his shuttle had landed. It was peaceful here, away from the sounds of the monastery, muted though they were, and very far removed from the bustle of any Bajoran city. And so distant from the station.

Bashir crouched by the pond and dipped one hand into the cool water. It was not nearly as cold as the river neither he nor Narayan had ever named. The sound of the water burbling over the rocks was just as gentle as the sound of the breeze in the trees. Bashir appreciated it. They were like smaller versions of the sounds he had grown used to in the mountains.

He pulled his hand out again and watched the sparkling drops fall from his fingertips. They barely made a noise, even to his sensitive hearing, when they hit the surface of the pond.

Bashir sat down on one of the stone slabs and watched the little waterfall where the stream joined the pond for awhile. It was peaceful here, and he felt a respite from himself, from the strangeness of the last two weeks. Narayan had said she'd wanted to visit a Bajoran monastery. She might not be real, and her wishes no more than something Bashir's imagination had conjured up, but he could do this for her. He could go where she could not. It seemed like the only gesture he could make to a woman who had never existed. It was a good one. He found himself wondering why he'd never visited a Bajoran monastery before; it was so peaceful, so relaxing.

He heard someone approaching on the path, but ignored the sound of the footsteps. Any monk or vedek who came upon him would realize he wanted to be alone and let him be. Bashir kept his eyes on the water as the footsteps drew near, then stopped abruptly. The startled gasp made him jerk his head up.

Bashir was on his feet in a split second.

"I'm sorry," Narayan said. "I didn't meant to disturb–"

"Syreeta?", Bashir managed.

She closed her mouth abruptly, staring at him. Bashir stared back, unable to believe she was right there. She was dressed in a beautiful green and blue sari with golden edging, and her long hair, which she had always worn back during their trek, fell past her shoulders.

"You– remember me?", she managed, her voice heavy with shock.

Bashir splashed through the pond, not caring that he was soaking his pants and shoes, and grabbed her, pulling her into a tight hug. Narayan flung her arms around him, holding him hard. It was only then that Bashir believed she was really there, her solid presence in his arms confirmed it. He pulled away, took her face in his hands, kissed her on the lips and pulled her back into a hug.

"Of course I remember you!", he finally said, his voice shaking. "How could I forget?"

"I thought– they told me it was just a dream, that I'd only been missing for thirty-five hours. The shuttle, I mean. At first, I thought they must be wrong, but then– After all this time, I'd come to accept it wasn't real."

Bashir pulled back, looking down at her in confusion.

"All this time?", he asked. "How long has it been?"

She gave him a puzzled look of her own.

"Well, almost two years–"

"Two years!"

Narayan nodded.

"It's only been two weeks!"

They stared at each other in shock, then Narayan shook her head slowly.

"What the hell happened to us, Julian?"

"I don't know," he said. "But something strange. They said my shuttle hit a subspace eddy."

"Mine too!"

"Your crewmates? Were they okay?"

Relief filled her face as she nodded.

"They were. Julian– I was so convinced it happened, but friends of mine in Intelligence did some subtle checking. They said you hadn't experienced anything like I had."

"Not two years ago I hadn't!", he exclaimed. "But how would you have known me? We never met before– well, whenever it was."

"One of my medical colleagues knows you. He was impressed by your work on Bajor. He used to talk about it. After awhile, I thought I had dragged your name up from my memories of his conversations."

Bashir nodded. It was like how he'd remembered the _Sir John_, or at least how O'Brien had thought he'd remembered it.

"But– I searched for your personnel file," he said. "I couldn't find you anywhere. Nor any mention of Doctor Berch, or the disaster on Lionus."

She closed her eyes, nodding.

"Yes, I know." She opened her eyes again. "Julian, I'm sorry, I didn't want to lie to you. I was on a mission and working on an assumed identity. All the details I gave you were true. Just the names were changed."

Bashir wondered if he should feel angry or betrayed by that. He didn't. Partly because he was so elated to see her it was making him dizzy, partly because he understood the nature of her work. Telling one person could jeopardize her security and that of her mission, no matter how stranded they had been.

"What's your real name?", he asked.

"Sharanjeet Madurai. This time, it really is. You can look that up, and you'll find me listed as a pilot."

"And your sisters? And Doctor Berch?"

"My sisters were Malini and Amlika. Doctor Berch is really Doctor Treris Jyn. Berch is a nickname. I have no idea where it comes from, even he can't remember. He's had it since he was a kid. I grew up on Illyrium. It has two moons, too: Thracia and Lycia."

"What about the _Sir John_? It's been decommissioned for twelve years!"

"Yes, it has. It's not the ship on which I was serving. I'm sorry, Julian, I can't give you that name."

He nodded. Then he had to sit down. Madurai sat down beside him, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

"I wish I knew how to explain this," he said.

"Me, too," she replied with conviction. She tucked her hair behind her ears and a faint jingling sound caught Bashir's attention. He looked up to see the Bajoran-style earring on her left ear.

"You're married!", he exclaimed.

She smiled slightly.

"Yes. To Jyn."

"Berch?

She nodded again.

"At first– after I woke up, I felt as if nothing had changed. I lost someone else who meant a lot to me. I didn't want– I didn't want to talk about it, because I thought if I did, then it really never happened, and you were really living your life happily on DS9 without remembering me. Then I realized I could still have learned something from you. It helped."

Bashir nodded.

"I know exactly how you feel," he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Then you _are_ enhanced?"

He nodded, looking puzzled.

"Yes, I did tell you that. I remember telling you that. And now it really did happen."

She nodded.

"But when I brought that up, everyone who knew you brushed it off, saying I was out of my mind. I thought I must have made it up because of my own enhancement. But– ah, yes. If the truth just came out recently, that means recently for you. No one would have known two years ago."

He nodded.

"We still don't know what happened," he said.

Madurai looked around them.

"Maybe we should ask one of the vedeks," she suggested.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't the slightest idea how else we'd figure this out. Do you think we hit the same subspace eddy in two separate quadrants years apart from each other? I don't."

Bashir sighed.

"We can try," he agreed.

They rose and made their way down the path, Bashir automatically walking in front. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped to look back at Madurai, who was laughing, one hand over her mouth. She had tears in her eyes, too.

"Oh, do lead on," she said, shaking her head.

He grinned and did so. They came to the temple and went inside. It was empty, so they made their way to the front of the room, sitting on the cushions on the floor. It was peaceful in there, as it had been outside, but in a different way. Here it was warm and dim and smelled faintly of sweet incense.

After a minute, a vedek came in through a side entrance. She was average height, a little shorter than Madurai, with pale skin and blue eyes. Her head was uncovered, and she had light brown hair that fell to just below her ears, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her ridged nose. When she saw Bashir and Madurai she stopped, looking puzzled for a moment, then smiled.

"Ah," she said, speaking to Madurai, her voice warm. "I wondered when you came here what the other side of your story was. Now I understand."

"Vedek Mela," Madurai said, and Bashir suspected that was for his benefit. "What do you mean?"

"You have been touched by the Prophets," Mela said, then nodded at Bashir. "So has he."

"But how?", Bashir asked. "We weren't anywhere near the wormhole. At least I wasn't! Were you?"

Madurai shook her head.

"The Prophets aren't confined to the Celestial Temple," Mela said.

"But this happened to me two years ago, and to him just two weeks ago!", Madurai protested.

"Captain Sisko said they don't operate in linear time," Bashir said.

"So what about the planet?", Madurai asked. "It wasn't real."

"It most likely was," Vedek Mela said.

"But where was it?", Bashir murmured.

Mela smiled.

"It may be a planet no human has ever seen. It may not have even been now, or two years ago. The Prophets work in mysterious ways. You may never know where you were, but that does not mean you cannot learn why you were there."

"I already know that," Madurai whispered.

"I think I do, too," Bashir replied.

"Then take that peace, children, and not the confusion." She smiled at them and walked out, as quietly as she had come.

Bashir and Madurai sat in silence for awhile. Bashir was unsure how to feel, other than stunned. Was it possible that the wormhole aliens had brought him and Madurai to some distant planet, years apart from each other in terms of their real lives? It was astonishing to think it could have happened. And humbling to think entities on such a vastly different plane had noticed him.

"Julian," Madurai said, breaking the silence. He looked over at her. She reached around to the back of her neck and unhooked the necklace she wore beneath her clothing. He hadn't dreamt that, either. "I want you to have this."

"What? I can't take that! Your father made that for you."

"Yes, I know. But mine wasn't the only life he touched. I'll always remember him, and I want other people to remember him, too. Even if it's through me."

"Syreeta– I'm sorry, Sharanjeet."

"It's all right," she said with a smile. "You can call me Sharan, too."

"I can't accept this."

"You can," she replied and hooked it around his neck before he could protest again. Then she sat back and looked at him. "It was hard, not having you around all of a sudden. If I sent letters, would you reply?"

"Of course," he said, without even needing to think about it. "But where will I send them?"

She smiled.

"I'll send the first one. If you just reply, it will get to me. The signal will be coded and you can't– well, I expect _you_ could actually break it. Better if you don't, though, for you own sake."

"All right," he agreed. "How long are you here for?"

"Two more days. You?"

"Three." He paused, then smiled at her. "Shall we find somewhere to have dinner?"

Madurai grinned at him, and Bashir could tell she had truly become happy over the last couple of years. If she could do it, he knew he could, too. She had shown him that much as possible.

"As long as I don't have to hunt it, I'd love to."

_Author's Note_: I chose the name "Syreeta" because it's a Hindi name, but it also has an Arabic meaning, which is "companion". The name "Sharanjeet" means "protector". Vedek Mela is me; my first name is Melanie and the description is what I look like. I am not, of course, a religious person of any type, nor do I have nose ridges. I thought it would be fun to put myself in the story somewhere.


End file.
